


Two Is More Than Half Pt 2

by Shire55



Category: P/C - Fandom, Star Trek: The Next Generation, h/c - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 09:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 71,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/464922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shire55/pseuds/Shire55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Enterprise is sent to answer a call for help. What they discover will rock Picard and crusher to thier cores.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Is More Than Half Pt 2

Just as Jean-Luc arrived on the bridge, Will was receiving the report from the gamma shift. By the grim look on Will’s face, Jean-Luc instantly knew something was amiss.  
“Report, number one.”  
Directing his attention away from the now very nervous lieutenant, Will faced his captain.  
“I’ve just learned there was another power surge from the anomaly at 03.23.”  
Not moving his head, Jean-Luc’s eyes shifted to the lieutenant. “Why wasn’t I informed?”  
The young man’s eyes darted from Will to his captain. “I’m sorry, Captain. It’s just that we had no further information to add to what little we already know. I didn’t see the point in disturbing you, sir.”  
Jean-Luc bowed his head and softly sighed. “Lieutenant,” he said quietly, “While I understand your reasoning, in situations like we find ourselves in now, it is imperative all incidents and events must be reported immediately, if not to me directly, then to a senior officer.”  
The lieutenant nodded, saying contritely, “Yes, sir.”  
“What did you do, Lieutenant?”  
“I requested the tactical officer to log the event and route it to the computer to add to the current analysis in progress.”  
A small smile appeared, but didn’t reach Jean-Luc’s eyes. “Well you did that correctly at least. Your shift has ended?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Then you’re dismissed.”  
“Thank you, Captain.”  
A very relieved lieutenant left the bridge leaving Jean-Luc to ask Will, “Has the computer got anywhere with its analysis?”  
The big man shook his head, his eyes still without their once perpetual sparkle. “I don’t know, Captain.”  
“Then let’s ask.” said Jean-Luc mildly. “Computer, current status of analysis of energy burst from the detected anomaly?”  
“Analysis not yet complete.”  
“Do you have any new information to offer?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then do so.”  
“It has been established that the recorded event is an energy burst and that the theory of it being caused by a controlled nuclear fusion reaction is correct. The resultant burst is being directed, but as yet the precise destination or purpose is unknown. However, the burst has been established as being directed at the planet’s surface.”  
Will’s eyes narrowed as he lifted his chin. “Computer, cross-reference recent scans taken of alien ships, specifically those who escorted us into this system. Is there any correlation between the ships’ glow, and the energy burst?”  
“Accessing.”  
The two senior officer locked eyes, Jean-Luc saying softly, “A hunch, number one?”  
“More like an itch, Captain.”  
The computer’s soft, feminine voice came through once again.  
“Although scans were severely limited, it is possible the glow witnessed could be generated in the same way as the recorded energy burst from the nearby anomaly.”  
“Jesus.” Whispered Will. “Gives a whole new meaning to the term starship.”  
“Indeed. Computer,” said a now worried Jean-Luc. “Given that we now know the anomaly contains something like a star, manufactured or not, what do you make of the anomaly itself?”  
“Insufficient data.”  
“Theorise!”  
“Any power source that powerful and being a controlled nuclear fusion reaction, artificial or not, will produce an atmosphere. Whether or not what is being observed is a corona, the chromosphere or photosphere is not known.”  
“Accepted, but with the available data, how large do you estimate the power source to be? And computer feel free to theorise.”  
“It would depend entirely on how the nuclear fusion reaction has been created. In astronomical terms, a star is measured by its solar mass, in the case of Earth’s star, derived by the length of year, the distance from the Earth to the star, (expressed as one Astronomical Unit) and the gravitational constant. Main sequence stars have to maintain hydrostatic equilibrium, possess strong magnetic fields and almost all stars exhibit solar flares, solar prominences and eject solar material through their coronas. None of these characteristics have been noted or recorded which suggests the power source is artificial and has been created in such a fashion as to be entirely controlled. However, until the nature of the manufactured star is determined, no estimate of its power or actual size can be given.”  
Jean-Luc’s head was turned now, but he was staring sightlessly into the middle distance.  
“Computer, considering the energy bursts are being directed at the planet’s surface and the correlation of the suspected power source of the alien ships, can we suppose that the aliens are dependent on whatever is in the anomaly? That they generate at will power they can utilise almost infinitely?”  
“Supposition is not acceptable. Insufficient data.”  
In the silence that followed, Jean-Luc scowled. He gave a shake of his head and dragged his eyes back to Will’s.  
“You have the bridge, number one, but join me in the ready room when your duties allow.”  
Ignoring the acknowledgement, Jean-Luc walked into his inner sanctum, many thoughts vying for dominance.  
Jean-Luc had no idea how long he’d been standing at the viewport in his office. Three things kept rolling around in his mind. Foremost were the current situation with the aliens and the little-by-little they were learning and his lingering anger and hurt over what Beverly had done, but in the background, nibbling away at the edges of his consciousness was something he couldn’t quite pin down. The door chimed twice before he suddenly heard it. As he returned to his desk, he called, “Come.”  
Will came in, his expression bland, something Jean-Luc was still trying to get used to. There was a specific reason Jean-Luc had requested Will’s presence, but a distracting thought had surfaced.  
“What kind of star does this system possess?”  
“A G2V, Captain. Not as big as the Sol system’s but of course that makes it hotter, though not necessarily brighter.”  
“And the distance the planet is from the star?”  
“Ah...30.44 AUs.”  
“Hmm, approximately 4.5 billion kilometres. So the planet would be cold. Icy in fact.”  
Will nodded, wondering where his captain was going. “Seems so, not that our scans can prove it. Hell, we can’t even see it for ourselves. I guess that was why they wanted such a high orbit.”  
“Hmm.”  
“Was there something else, Captain?”  
Jean-Luc brought himself out of his musings and gave a curt nod. “Yes there is, Will.”  
The first officer bent slightly and grabbed the back of the chair in front of the desk with both hands. “Yes, sir?”  
“Discipline, Will.” The captain’s eyes darkened and he sighed. “It’s slipping. I know since the war and the Borg incursion we no longer have the luxury of picking and choosing who gets to serve on this ship, but that’s no excuse to let our standards drop. What the lieutenant did by not reporting the power surge last night was slack to say the least. He should’ve known that if not me, then one of the senior staff should have been notified immediately. I want the standard brought up, Will, back to where it should be, where it always has been and I expect you to be the one to make it so. It’s your job Will. You know what I expect.”  
Straightening, Will squared his shoulders and nodded. “Captain, I have to take responsibility for this situation anyway. I’ve dropped the ball lately...I can only apologise, sir. I’ll get things back to rights, have no fear, Captain.”  
Sorrow clouded Jean-Luc’s eyes and Will steeled himself against it.  
“I do understand, Will, but once you returned to duty...”  
The smile that emerged was wan compared to his once common genial one, but at least it was a smile. “Don’t worry about it, Captain. I’ll whip this crew into something resembling an Enterprise crew.”  
Giving the man a warm smile, Jean-Luc sighed with relief. “Thank you, number one, that’s all.”  
He had intended to get to work, but the troublesome unease he’d been wrestling with suddenly surfaced. Like pieces of a jigsaw fitting together, Jean-Luc began to assemble a picture in his head. One by one the bits came together.  
“First she asked me about my mother’s health. Then she wanted a DNA sample from me, taken in a most odd fashion.” He tilted his head, willing the fragments to coalesce. “She requests a visit to the planet, ostensibly to examine her patients. On her return she tells me she discovered something she needed to prove, something she was aware of before she went down to the planet and that somehow our missions coincide. Then she asks me, out-of-the-blue what I remember about suffering Shalaft’s. And she wants to know what my father knew about it.”  
He rose from his desk and went back to the viewport, deep in thought. Almost as an afterthought, Jean-Luc said softly, “Computer, what was contained in the request made by Doctor Beverly Crusher that required a priority one subspace burst which I authorised?”  
“Unable to comply. That information is protected by patient confidentiality.”  
“Override. Security protocol, Picard, Jean-Luc, Captain, theta pi zero, nine eight.”  
“Authorisation accepted.”  
“Display.”  
The heading of the file was enough to make Jean-Luc gape. “My mother? She wanted my mother’s complete medical file? Why?”  
A sudden and very unwanted question formed and Jean-Luc grimaced. He wanted an answer and there was only one way he was going to get it.  
Will looked up as Jean-Luc came out of the ready room and frowned as the older man halted; his head bowed.  
“You have the bridge.”  
The captain walked towards the aft lift, with Will asking respectfully, “And you will be...?”  
Jean-Luc didn’t answer. Once the lift doors closed he said softly, “Sick bay.”

 

Beverly was in one of the larger analysis rooms, staring intently at the screen. It wasn’t as large as the main sick bay screen, but the room was one of those the aliens had agreed to let her use while her staff could still stay at their posts.  
On the screen was an enlarged image of the auditory system of one of the hybrid children. Pressing her thumbnail against her teeth, Beverly muttered, “What the hell is that? Jesus, how the hell does it work?”  
She traced her finger over what she was seeing and said distractedly, “Computer, split screen. Display paternal auditory system and compare.”  
“The structure of the hybrid auditory system differs in four fundamental ways. The auricular is formed to function differently, suggesting sound is directed into the inner ear in a way as yet not known. The inner ear does not possess the structures of the paternal auditory system. There is no tympanic cavity, no ossicles, no Eustachian tubes or any nasopharynx. Instead, there is a membrane and two minute structures which may be ossific in nature that links directly to what appears to be an auditory nerve, although it is bisected and connects to two distinct areas of the brain. That could mean the patient can hear on two different levels, one obvious, the other discrete. However, without further information that is as yet, unknown.”  
“I wonder...” said Beverly softly, but she got no further. The screen suddenly went blank and before she could react, the door opened and a very familiar voice said with a slight edge, “Beverly, we need to talk.”  
Her stomach immediately clenched and her heart accelerated. “He knows!” was her first panicked thought. But with so much at stake, Beverly quickly composed herself and turned, a smile plastered on her face.  
Jean-Luc wasn’t fooled for an instant and she knew it. Her smile faded and she swallowed, saying softly, “My office.”  
Once inside, Jean-Luc made sure the doors were shut and just as he was about to order the windows opaqued, Beverly beat him to it.  
In the sudden silence, they stood, staring at each other. The impasse was broken when Beverly took her seat and picked up a stylus, keeping her eyes trained on it as she rolled it between her fingers. Standing in front of her desk, Jean-Luc said quietly,  
“Is he a clone?”  
The question was so loaded it struck Beverly like a physical blow. She couldn’t summon her voice, she merely shook her head, but that only served to confuse Jean-Luc. He’d been so sure.  
“Are you certain?”  
Again she just nodded.  
“Who is he?”  
Still, Beverly remained silent and it only served to make her husband more insistent.  
“Who is he?!”  
Lifting her head, Beverly knew she’d been painted into a corner with no way out. Somehow Jean-Luc had worked out some part of what was going on, at least as far as it concerned him. Very softly, doing her best to soften the shocking news, she said,  
“He’s your brother.”  
Narrowing his eyes, Jean-Luc tilted his head, one part of him dismissing such an absurd statement, but another trying to absorb the improbable, but astonishing news.  
“My brother?” He said cautiously. “Beverly, the only brother I had has been dead for some years now. There were only the two of us, Robert and me.” His face suddenly clouded on anger. “Are you suggesting one of my parents...?”  
Holding up one hand, a shocked Beverly blurted, “No! Oh, God, no, Jean-Luc! No, nothing like that.”  
He was growing increasingly upset and impatient. “Then what the hell do you mean by brother?!”  
There was no use in even trying to sidestep. She had to tell him.

“He’s your identical twin. He was taken from your mother before she knew she was pregnant...when you were both just barely embryos.”  
Wordlessly, Jean-Luc sat down, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to process what he’d been told. Slowly at first, then with more confidence, Beverly told Jean-Luc all that the conscience had told her. When she’d finished they sat in sudden silence. Her with huge relief at finally unburdening herself, he in shock and growing outrage.  
Eventually Jean-Luc lifted his head and his eyes glittered dangerously. “They’ve been stealing people...children...for millennia? To serve as some kind of arbiter?”  
This wasn’t quite what Beverly’d expected. She had thought he’d want to know about his brother.  
“He wants to meet you.” She said tentatively.  
When he didn’t react to that, she said warily, “Jean-Luc?”  
“This must stop! They can’t continue to...”  
“Jean-Luc!” Beverly sharp tone broke through his mental haze. He blinked, his mouth ajar. Slowly and gently, Beverly repeated herself. “He wants to meet you.”  
As they stared into each other’s eyes, Jean-Luc’s cleared. He took a deep breath and rubbed his brow. “What’s he like?” He asked softly.  
Relieved that her husband had found his way back, Beverly offered a lopsided smile. “He’s your identical twin, Jean-Luc. Physically...” she snorted softly. “apart from your...hairstyle...you look the same. As for your personalities, there are some similarities, even some shared gestures. It’s remarkable really, if not somewhat unsettling.”  
Scrambling to get his head around the news, Jean-Luc said the first thing that came to mind. An old trait he’d thought he’d rid myself of. “Hairstyle?”  
Beverly’s smile was tender but she couldn’t hide the trace of amusement. “Like you, he’s inherited male alopecia, but he hasn’t cut his hair. Ever. So he’s bald but has a long, thick grey braid that reaches right down his back growing from the same area of his head where you have hair.”  
“How long is his beard?” asked a still stunned Jean-Luc, trying to imagine himself as Beverly described.  
“He doesn’t have one, he’s clean shaven. He told me his ‘one’-presumably his mate-prefers him that way.”  
His voice almost a whisper, Jean-Luc was retreating again. “What is his name?”  
Tilting her head to see under his lowered brow, Beverly replied gently, “He doesn’t have one, my love.”  
Raising his head, Jean-Luc frowned deeply. “He has no name? Why?”  
“Apparently the names the aliens have are indecipherable to him.”  
Shaking his head at the obvious implication, Jean-Luc lifted a hand, saying confusedly, “Wait! What are you saying? Can he communicate with them or not?”  
“Yes he can, but not as the aliens do, his hands can’t master the gestural language. His clothing has an integrated hyper laser which can ‘read’ the gestures and interpret them for him. Also on his clothing is a modest, flexible screen that displays the interpreted gestures as text. The aliens understand him when he speaks. But even so, their names can’t be interpreted.”  
“And...” Jean-Luc was incredulous. “he speaks standard?”  
“And French.” Said Beverly softly.  
“And French?” Whispered Jean-Luc. “Mon Dieu.”  
“The first words he said to me were spoken in French. Almost knocked me off my feet. He told me that the aliens routinely teach their conscience whatever the dominant language is of the planet of origin and also any regional language. It’s sort of paying some kind of respect.”  
Again silence settled before Jean-Luc said quietly, “It’s Shalaft’s. Isn’t it.”  
With a sigh, Beverly nodded. “Uh huh. He had it just like you did but he told me his healers had cured him, but even though they’ve done some remarkable work on his auditory system, my guess is that the cure coincided with the natural resolution of the condition. Trouble is, his children all have it and there’re complications. That’s what I’m here for.”  
Disbelief showed on Jean-Luc face. “He has children? How many?”  
“Four. Three males, one female, all about 13 years old.”  
“Thirteen? But Shalaft’s...”  
Holding up her hand again, Beverly twisted her head. “I know! Not only is it very late-onset, but the female is affected too.”  
“They’re...hybrids?”  
“Yes. And that of course is why we have the complications.” Beverly let out a frustrated breath. “Jean-Luc, I’m working in the dark here. The aliens have permitted me free access to all the relevant medical information about the father...your brother...and the children, but absolutely nothing about themselves! How the hell am I going to figure out this puzzle with only half the pieces?”  
Rubbing his lower lip with his fingers, Jean-Luc’s analytical mind was coming back on line.  
“Beverly, what can you tell me about your visit?”  
Shrugging, Beverly pulled down the corners of her mouth and raised her eyebrows. “Not a great deal. I didn’t see any aliens, I was only in one building and it was unremarkable and from what I could see outside, it was a dim, frozen, open wasteland.” Twisting her lips to one side in thought, Beverly suddenly looked up and snapped her fingers. “Bioluminescence!”  
“Pardon?” said a startled Jean-Luc.  
“Bioluminescence. The aliens, I think they glow, Jean-Luc. I wasn’t sure until I saw the children. They glow, but softly, however, on arrival I was required to wear an eye shield which was completely black, making me virtually blind, but just as a control was activated to lighten the shield, I saw a bright glow, which abruptly disappeared...as if someone had just left the room. The next thing I knew, I was reading text on a screen instructing me to take the shield off.”  
“Tell me about bioluminescence, Beverly.”  
By his expression and tone, she knew something was on his mind.  
“Well, basically it’s the production and emission of light by a living organism. The word itself is a hybrid, coming from the Greek bios for living and the Latin lumen for light. It’s a naturally occurring form of chemiluminescence where energy is released by a chemical reaction in the form of light emission. Lots of creatures do it. On Earth there’re fireflies, anglerfish...they all produce a chemical called luciferin, it’s a pigment, and luciferase, an enzyme. The luciferin reacts with oxygen to create light. The luciferase acts as a catalyst to speed up the reaction which is sometimes mediated by factors such as calcium ions or ATP. The chemical reaction can occur either inside or outside the cell. In organisms as small as...say...bacteria, the expression of genes to bioluminescence is controlled by an operon, a segment of a chromosome, called the Lux operon.”  
“Hmm. The light. Hot or cold?”  
“Cold. Less than 20% of the light generates thermal radiation.”  
When he said nothing further, Beverly asked softly, “What?”  
He looked up and his eyes were glittering again. “You remember their ships?”  
“Yes.” Suddenly Beverly took a sharp breath. “They glowed!”  
“Indeed they did. And there’s more. That anomaly? The one we’ve had little or no success in scanning?”  
“Yes.”  
“It’s been emitting energy surges and as far as the computer’s concerned, it seems our alien friends seem to have not only created a small star, but have the ability to both control it and direct its power. Now, doctor, do you still think you’re dealing with bioluminescence? Or could it be something else entirely?”  
“I...I don’t know.” Beverly said, thoughts beginning to reel around inside her head.  
“Did you take any samples from the hybrids, other than what the aliens had supplied?”  
“Yes...” Beverly nodded distractedly. “Not only did I scan them...and your brother...but I took some blood.”  
Jean-Luc could see Beverly was already drifting, her mind devoting itself to this new aspect of the enigma she was trying to solve. She barely heard his next question.  
“Why did you take my DNA sample using such an archaic method?”  
Lifting her head, she frowned. “What?”  
“The DNA sample you took from me.”  
“What about it?”  
Patience had always been one of Jean-Luc’s virtues, especially when dealing with his wife. Repeating himself when Beverly was distracted was something he was accustomed to.  
“Why did you collect it in such an outmoded fashion?”  
“Oh...I wanted more than just one isolated stand as I’d get using a selector. A very old process, at least the one from as far back as about the mid 21st century, gives a gross reading, not a refined one as I could have now, but I was looking for more than just DNA structure. I used a very old technique called PCR, Polymerase Chain Reaction. It’s a way of replicating DNA that doesn’t alter the nucleotides. It is old fashioned, but the beauty of it is that because it’s so unsophisticated it gives a very broad, that is non-specific by our standards, reading and that’s exactly what I wanted.”  
“Why?  
“Because I was looking for something discrete, something that might be disregarded or ignored by our modern tests simply because it’s so blatantly obvious.”  
A now intrigued Jean-Luc asked, “And that is?”  
“The replication fork and the proteins associated in initiating and contributing to the DNA synthesis.”  
With a frown, Jean-Luc asked warily, “But isn’t that basically cloning?”  
Her smile was an indulgent one. “By our terms, yes. But way back then, they were simply replicating individual strands of DNA only, not creating an entire copy of a living being. Back then it required the input of more than just one individual DNA contribution. We, on the other hand can do it, but it requires DNA resequencing, something that was, as yet, out of the reach of those long gone scientists.”  
Jean-Luc thought about that for a few moments, then said quietly, “So it was my DNA and the discrete properties you found that made you suspicious?”  
“Not merely suspicious, Jean-Luc.” Beverly snorted softly. “Once I realised what I was seeing in the information on the hybrids showed Shalaft’s, I was shocked, I mean it’s so damned rare and seeing as I had at my disposal a very,”...here she smiled tenderly, “special and dear person who just happened to be one of those very rare individuals who carried the defect, I began to feel very uneasy, but it wasn’t until I done the PCR and armed with the results and of course the more sophisticated tests available to me, which I did, that I was certain. The DNA from the father was an identical match to you. Like you, my first thought was cloning, but my tests, which I might add were extensive, showed no deviation or degradation of the base nucleotides. I could come to only one conclusion.”  
Although softly asked, Jean-Luc’s gaze was piercing.  
“You don’t think you may be mistaken? We know their medical technology far outstrips our own. Is it possible he may be a clone? That he may have told you about how these aliens have been...stealing...other sentient beings to act as their ‘conscience’ as a way to deceive you? After all, Beverly, they may well have mastered a cloning technique that’s undetectable to you.”  
Beverly’s eyes hardened at the thinly veiled questioning of her abilities but his concerns were justified. Summoning patience, she kept her tone even.  
“Those are valid points, Jean-Luc, but the very fact that their medical technology is so much more advanced than ours would seem to suggest that if they were cloning, they would’ve detected any defective genes and removed them. I simply can’t believe they’d leave any flaws in any cloned being...it makes no sense. And if they could clone that well, why seek new beings? Why not simply keep cloning the one they found acceptable? Besides, why indulge in such an elaborate lie? They’re not in the Federation; we have no say in what they choose to do.”  
Anger made Jean-Luc’s eyes glitter. “Don’t we? That...man...if he was indeed conceived on Earth and is completely human, then despite the fact that he was born on the alien planet, he is a Federation citizen and I have a sworn duty to protect him and to put an end to what the aliens are doing and seem to have been doing for a very long time.”  
Pursing her lips, Beverly made a mild effort to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. “Far be it for me to quote the Prime Directive, Jean-Luc, but you can’t do anything about this. Under the very rule you hold so dear you can’t interfere. Like you said, they’re not a Federation world. You have absolutely no authority...or right...to impose our ethics upon them.”  
Not quite sure how to deal with this, coming from Beverly with whom he’d had many heated ‘debates’ about the Prime Directive and always, without exception, her position was inevitably against its unilateral application, Jean-Luc said guardedly, “You condone what they’re doing? What they’ve done?”  
Tilting her head, Beverly’s gaze was intense, but her voice was soft. “Would you be so keen to uphold the Prime Directive if you weren’t so personally involved?”  
His clenched jaw made his facial muscles bunch. His eyes glittered in suppressed anger and his voice was tight. “I can’t believe you just said that.” He briefly closed his eyes and took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds before slowly letting it out through his nose. “Beverly,” he said, calmer now. “This isn’t about me. It doesn’t matter who that man is or indeed which species he is....if he has originated from a Federation world, then I have a sworn duty to protect him and to try and find a way to stop the aliens from continuing with this practice of...harvesting... if not all together, than at least from using Federation worlds as a source for their conscience. And, just so you know, I won’t be citing ethics, Beverly, simply dry, emotionless law.”  
A tense silence descended, broken when Jean-Luc asked quietly, “You’re absolutely sure? As far as you can tell, he is my brother?”  
“Yes.”  
Standing, Jean-Luc looked down at his wife and said softly, “In that case, I have only two things to say. One: I now see why you acted as you did, and I will remove you from being on report, and two: I think it best you and I see if the aliens will allow both of us to make a visit.”  
Nodding and feeling a great deal of relief, Beverly smiled, saying quietly, “Thank you, Jean-Luc.”  
His smile was a small, his worry obvious. He could see that his wife was itching to return to her work, but he hesitated at the now open office door.  
“Beverly, how are you going with this? Do you think you can cure those poor...children?”  
She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. “Look, it’s early days yet, but I think...” she pulled her lips to one side. “Yes, I think I can do it, but somewhere along the line I’m going to have to get some information on the alien physiology. I just can’t do my job with insufficient information.”  
Jean-Luc softly grunted. “You’re not the only one, that’s all any of us have had from the very beginning of this mission.” He sighed, bowing his head. “So...the glowing phenomena. Can you...?”

Beverly shook her head. “It’s not a priority to me, Jean-Luc. Unless I find it has something to do with their condition, it has to be secondary. Sorry.”  
Nodding, Jean-Luc said quietly, “I’ll go back to the bridge...see if I can get them to respond.”  
“Why wouldn’t they?” Asked a confused Beverly. “They always have done when we hailed them before.”  
His face stony, Jean-Luc said dryly, “That’s right, you wouldn’t be aware.”  
She frowned. “Of what?”  
“While you were off the ship the aliens refused to respond to our hails, and before you ask, yes we hailed repeatedly.”  
“Oh.”  
“Yes, oh.” He shook his head in frustrated consternation. “I can’t work them out, Beverly. They want our...your help, they’ve shown to be benevolent in the past, but they make it so patently clear they want the upper hand. That they wish to direct everything that happens. And now I find they’ve been...preying on humans and God knows how many other species for millennia. What are we doing here? Is this a simple mission of mercy? Or is there a hidden agenda? And why would a species so evolved wish to be all but governed by an alien? There are so many questions, Beverly, and it seems to me that even if we ask, we’re not going to get any answers. No, we’re going to come away from this none the wiser and my...brother...” he sighed and closed his eyes, repeating softly, “My brother...my identical twin brother...what of him? I can’t leave him there. I can’t let the aliens keep using Federation worlds as breeding grounds for their own purposes. But what you said is true, I have no jurisdiction here. I’m effectively caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.”  
He shook his head and Beverly could see what the dilemma was doing to him. Leaving her desk, she went to him and ushered him back inside, letting the doors close. Taking him into her arms she said softly, “Let’s just take this one step at a time, Jean-Luc. Don’t bite off too much at once, you’ll choke on it.”  
She kissed his cheek and he sighed, lifting his head to place a soft, tender kiss on her lips.  
“If we make contact and I get permission, I’ll contact you.”  
Beverly’s reply was a soft smile and another kiss. He left and although his shoulders were square and his bearing immaculate, Beverly knew the enormous weight he carried. She didn’t envy him and it physically hurt to know there was little she could do to help him.

 

The adviser was seated in the very cold room, the combined light from the occupants so vivid that no human eye could stand it. The six beings had their hands raised to chest height and, although it seemed no fingers were moving, in fact each and every being was talking at once, the equivalent of a cacophony in human terms. It wasn’t until the adviser rose to his feet that the fingers stilled, the other five turning their heads to watch his hands.  
“Healers, we cannot reach consensus if we are at odds with each other. If we all speak at the same time, no one will be heard.”  
To the adviser’s left, a female’s fingers moved. “That is a fatuous thing to say! It’s not our place to reach a consensus on this. This is precisely the kind of conundrum the conscience is supposed to adjudicate on. Not us!”  
“Yes,” gestured a being to her right. “But this is about the conscience. Are you suggesting he adjudicate on his own destiny? That is absurd.”  
“Then what is the purpose of the conscience?” Asked another healer. She then answered her own question. “His purpose is to adjudicate. I see no difference whether or not his judgements pertain to him personally or the people. He was chosen and educated to serve. He must see this as just another petition and, just as he is not influenced by the local biases or societal trends of the people, so he must apply the same impartiality to himself.”  
“But can he?” Asked the adviser. “This is very much more than a simple, but unfortunate matter of a conscience being exposed to the beings of his origin. No, this is far more complicated. The conscience has been told not only has he an identical twin brother, but by some extraordinary set of circumstances, the brother is none other than the captain of the ship sent to assist us...and the mate of the healer requested to cure his offspring! The most prominent healer we asked for.”  
Again the hands around the table raised and many gestures were made all at once, causing frustration and irritation. It was the adviser who again brought order.  
“I do not believe the conscience can make an impartial adjudication in this matter. His thinking has already been...polluted by simply knowing of the existence of his...brother.”  
The female on the left made an unprecedented move by rising to her feet and thrusting her hands out in front of her, an unmistakable gesture that indicated shouting.  
“Then what is the alternative?! We cannot...we must not adjudicate! That is not our purpose! If we make a judgement in this matter, we have usurped the one person we have chosen, educated and relied on for seven decades and a system we have relied on for so long our people know no other way! Would you have us force his conclusion and send the purveyors out? Now? When the people need their conscience the most?”  
Once more the meeting descended into a babble of silent chatter. The adviser bowed his head. He already knew the records of the purveyors could offer no precedent by which they could make a comparison. When the people had first begun to use a conscience, there had been many failures. But those individuals had been, if not adults, then late adolescents and in each and every instance, their death was due to exposure outside their new homes in a useless attempt to escape. Replacing them in those times was relatively easy and the people had not yet learned to rely on the conscience. But as time went on and younger and younger beings were sought, more success was gained and the people slowly became dependent on the system. With the advent of such a suitable species as the humans coupled with the ever more sophisticated technology in acquiring them, the current situation never arose. The adviser and the council of healers were in uncharted waters. A circumstance of their own making to be sure, but not an anticipated one. Put simply, they were completely out of their depth.  
As the other five beings argued amongst themselves. The adviser left the table and went the few steps to the clear wall. The light from inside the room was so bright it illuminated the icy land outside for several metres and the adviser watched as ice pellets emerged from the dimness and annihilated themselves against the clear wall, driven by the ever-present fierce winds. He bowed his head, wondering if his people were about to face an intolerable, unacceptable and unthinkable situation.

 

Will had served with his captain for over twelve years and knew the man well, at least as well as Jean-Luc let him. They were personal friends and enjoyed an excellent working relationship, so when Jean-Luc appeared on the bridge to anyone who didn’t know him, he appeared his usual self, unruffled, calm and exuding steady authority. But Will saw the tight lines around the older man’s mouth and the hard glitter in his eyes. Yes, something more than just the damned mission was bothering him and the exec wondered briefly if his friends had somehow endured another failed pregnancy. The very fact that Jean-Luc gestured to Will to join him in the ready room with a jerk of his head only served to increase Will’s worry.  
Ten minutes later, Will’s mouth was slightly ajar. “Your identical twin brother?”  
Jean-Luc said nothing, made no gestures, just sat, still and tense, like a coiled spring, at any moment ready to burst into action. The first officer began to think hard about the situation and as Jean-Luc watched, the big man’s face showed each expression as the ramifications...and the quandary the situation presented occurred to him. Eventually he ran his hand backwards through his hair and softly swore.  
“Shit. What a can of worms.”  
He then looked across at his captain and said quietly, “How are you doing, sir? It must’ve been a hell of a shock.”  
Apart from Beverly and Deanna, anyone else other that Will would’ve been given short shrift for even asking such a question, but Jean-Luc accepted it from his exec. Although asked as a friend, Jean-Luc knew Will had a duty to see that his captain was unaffected and able to carry out his duty as the CO.  
“Yes it was and I would be a liar if I said it didn’t shake me, but I’m fine. You needn’t worry about me, Will.”  
Risking one more question and deciding there would be no more on the matter...as long as the answer was reasonable, Will asked, “Are you going to speak to Counsellor Adams?”  
There was a hardening of his face and his eyes darkened, but Jean-Luc’s tone remained mild.  
“Not yet.” Before Will could say anything more, Jean-Luc held up a hand. “I will, number one, when the time is right but that’s not yet.”  
Taking a deep breath, Will accepted his captain’s decision. “Okay, that leaves the can of worms. What the hell are we going to do?”  
The use of the term ‘we’ made Jean-Luc inwardly smile. “Typical.” Thought Jean-Luc. “You always seek to ease my burdens. Thank you, Will.”  
Out loud, Jean-Luc said, “If you can work a way out of this, I’d be eternally grateful. As I see it there is no way out. On the one hand, despite his connection to me, we are duty bound to rescue the man and do what we can to stop the aliens from...procuring their conscience from Federation space. Personally I’d like to put a stop to it once and for all, but, as they’re not a Federation world, I have no justification or indeed, jurisdiction for doing so. And that leaves your...can of worms.”  
Will’s grin wasn’t quite his old one, but Jean-Luc was heartened to see it nonetheless.  
“The other hand.”  
“Indeed. Any ideas?”  
Will shrugged and let out a dry chuckle. “You mean short of abducting the man and placing a permanent watch on the planet to...encourage them to keep out of Federation space? No, Captain, I’ve no idea.”  
The soft snort from Jean-Luc made Will smile. “And tell me, Will, how does one encourage a people who possess weapons lethal enough to destroy a Borg ship with one shot? A people who’ve seemed to have created and harnessed a small star?”  
“Say pretty please?”  
That made Jean-Luc smile wryly. “Yes, well I think it’s going to take a little more than that. No, we need to find another way. What that is?” He shook his head, his brow creased in a deep frown. “Who knows? I certainly don’t.”  
His eyes lifted to lock onto Will’s and he said quietly, “I’m going to hail them again and I’m going to persist until they respond and when they do, I’m going to ask, firmly, for Doctor Crusher and me to go down to the planet. Not only does the doctor require more information, I need to talk to someone in charge and as far as I can make out, that person is...my brother.”  
When Will diplomatically said nothing, Jean-Luc offered a small smile of appreciation.  
“You’re thinking I want to meet him. You’re right, of course, I do, but he may have the answers I seek, answers that might give us a way to resolve this...situation.” He sighed and rubbed his brow. “I can only hope.”  
Will stood and looked down at his captain, seeing just how tired and burdened he was. He said quietly, “I’ll give the order to begin the hails, Captain.”  
“Thank you, number one.”  
In Will’s absence the room seemed bigger. Jean-Luc shook his head and asked the computer to display all the latest analysis on the energy bursts. He settled down and although he concentrated on his absorption of the information, in the back of his mind he was thinking, “I wonder what you’re like...brother.”  
Jean-Luc had finally managed to push all distracting thoughts aside and was deeply absorbed in his reading, the hours having flown by. He was just going over the latest analysis, (such as it was), of the gestural language when his screen suddenly went blank. His hand, holding a cup of Earl Grey froze half way to his mouth and he frowned.  
“What the hell?”  
Text suddenly began to scroll.  
“Your repeated attempts at communication are unwanted. Please desist.”  
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Jean-Luc said experimentally and was relieved when there was a reply.  
“Why?”  
“Because I have a very important request.”  
“And that is?”  
Jean-Luc sat back, grimacing slightly at the stiffness in his back and shoulders. He put the cup down and said mildly, “I want to request that Doctor Crusher and I be allowed to visit your planet.”  
Nothing happened, but Jean-Luc wasn’t unduly concerned. His patience was rewarded when new text appeared.  
“What is the purpose for you wanting to visit, Captain?”  
“I think you know the answer to that.”  
Again there was a lengthy time of silence. Jean-Luc lifted his hand to knead the muscles of his neck, his eyes closing as he registered how tired he was. It wasn’t until he rolled his shoulders and head and opened his eyes that he realised there was more text to read.  
“It is not appropriate.”  
“I disagree. But if you want another, more compelling reason then let me give you a medical one.” Jean-Luc smiled grimly. “I am identical to my brother...your conscience. Doctor Crusher will be able to make real-time comparisons between me, my brother and his children. You want her to cure them? Then give her every opportunity.”  
“If you are indeed identical, then there is no need for you to leave your ship. Doctor Crusher can simply scan you and compare with what she already has.”  
“You’re forgetting something.”  
“And that is?”  
“In an effort to cure my brother of the same condition that has afflicted his children, your...healers...made some alterations to his auditory system. In that one instance, we differ physically. My auditory system has not been altered in any way. The comparisons may well be telling and if we, that is my brother and I, can be together...to compare...physically and psychologically, then I think that gives Doctor Crusher an advantage. Don’t you?”  
“This...situation...is difficult. It has brought us much consternation. It seems to be forcing us to make decisions that are not ours to make.”  
Jean-Luc stopped the stream of text by asking softly, “What does he say? Does he have an opinion? A wish? Can he request something you find difficult? And if he did would you allow it?”  
“More difficulties! It is not our place to grant or deny anything the conscience asks of us....that is his purpose! Once he has been given a petition he makes a judgement. We are not bound by it, but a judgement made by a conscience has never been overturned or ignored. That would be to turn our backs on our own system and throw our society into chaos.”  
Curious now, Jean-Luc asked, “But what would happen in the event the conscience dies? I take it they do die...naturally?”  
“Yes, they, like us, have a finite life. When a conscience reaches a certain age, the purveyors are sent out to procure another. By the time the new conscience has been gestated, born and educated, it coincides with the natural conclusion of life in the old conscience. Usually the transition is seamless, but there have been instances when the conscience has died prematurely. Until the new conscience reaches the age of acceptance, our AI adjudicates. It is an imperfect system because although the artificial intelligence is well versed in matters of law, it is not capable of understanding the nuances of our society. The conscience bases his decisions not only on law, but what is relevant to the society in general at the time. As with all vibrant, evolving societies, each conscience adjudicates in his own way, accepting and absorbing the societal changes that naturally occur and integrating those changes within the law, which does not change.”  
Impressed, and grateful, Jean-Luc asked gently, “Why are you choosing to tell me all this? Our communications with you to date have been rather...abridged.”  
Slow seconds passed as Jean-Luc waited for a reply. He sighed as the text scrolled.  
“I am taking a terrible risk, Captain, but if you are like your...brother...then I must trust you as I trust him. You are right in thinking that he wishes to meet you and in truth, I find I cannot deny him, nor, as I have told you, have I the right to do so. But in exposing him to you, I put our people in great peril. So I ask you, Captain. If we were to change places, would you do as I have done? Am about to do?”  
Jean-Luc sighed and closed his eyes. “I can’t answer that.” He said softly. “I enjoy a certain amount of complacency. I have strict rules that I must abide by and they remove much of any dilemmas I encounter, just as your people have, but I am not faced with the dilemma you have. However, that’s not to say that this situation hasn’t caused me a great deal of concern.”  
“Yes. We thought it might. What are you going to do? You cannot impose your Prime Directive on us.”  
“No, I can’t, but neither can I ignore the fact that you have been taking Federation citizens and my sworn duty is to protect them...and that includes my brother.”  
“A conundrum then, Captain. I can only hope you share the wisdom of your brother.”  
Jean-Luc let that pass. “So, do I have your permission?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then please wait until I contact my officers and Doctor Crusher.”  
“Agreed. I too, must inform the conscience of my...decision. I can only hope I am doing what is right for our people, despite the fact it is not my decision to make.”  
The screen reverted to the previous data display and Jean-Luc sighed. Rising slowly from his desk, he stretched and left his office. Will looked up, concern on his face, saying softly, “Sir?”  
Summoning a tired smile, Jean-Luc said, “Cancel the hails, number one. I’ve just had a very interesting chat with one of the aliens.”  
Will’s eyebrows rose and his CO shook his head. “Long story, but the upshot is Doctor Crusher and I have permission to transport down.”  
“I’ll make the arrangements, sir.”  
“No need, Will. I’m going to sick bay now. Once Beverly’s prepared, they’ll....beam...us down.”  
The big man scowled. “And I suppose there’ll be a communication blackout while you’re gone?”  
Jean-Luc shrugged. “I suppose so.”  
“Well then, Captain, good luck and I’ll see you when you return.”  
“Thank you, number one. You have the bridge.”  
Just as Jean-Luc was entering the lift, Will said softly, “Come home in one piece, sir...both of you.”  
The doors closed before Jean-Luc could give any response.

 

Beverly knew as soon as she saw her husband’s face that he’d had success, although there was worry and disquiet in his expression. To her upraised eyebrow he said quietly, “Gather whatever you need, Beverly. We’ll be leaving shortly.”  
It took only a few moments to get what she wanted to take, then, at her silent gesture, they went into her office.  
“How long?”  
He shrugged. “I’m not sure. The being I spoke to told me he had to speak with my....” He frowned, saying nothing more.  
“Brother, Jean-Luc.” said Beverly kindly. “He’s your brother.”  
Sighing deeply, Jean-Luc ran his hands over his face. His voice was muffled as he said, “I know...it’s just...” Dropping his hands, he shook his head. “I suppose once I meet him, it’ll be easier, but it’s so hard to accept. I’ve been trying to imagine him, wonder what he’s like, but I can’t. We may look the same but Beverly...his entire life has been...”  
Taking his hand, Beverly said gently, “Remember I told you that you and he share some personality traits and some gestures?”  
Jean-Luc nodded.  
“Well, maybe recognising those things as well as the physical familiarity, you’ll be better able to establish some kind of relationship. But, my love...” She placed one hand flat on his cheek. “Just keep in mind, you’ll be only the second human he’s ever seen and it’s going to be, by-and-large, like looking at himself. So although you might be feeling off kilter, give him time, it’s going to be a lot harder for him.”  
Jean-Luc’s eyes slowly closed, his lips formed a small smile and he nodded. Beverly regarded him with a frown he didn’t see. “Dammit, Jean-Luc.” She thought dismally. “There’s nothing I can do to soften this, my love. I do so wish I could, but you’re on your own with this. As you so often are.”  
They stood together waiting for the unknown.

 

The adviser was surprised when the conscience wasn’t in the long room. A quick enquiry with his one informed him that the man wasn’t with her and although he’d been with his children earlier, he wasn’t with them now. Suddenly alarmed, the adviser checked the access logs and sighed with relief when it showed no one had exited the building. That meant the conscience was inside...but where?  
Sending a polite request by text to the man to give his location to all screens within the building and receiving no reply, the adviser was once again forced to do something against protocol. He inputted commands into the AI to find him. The result came through almost instantly. Sadness surged through the adviser when the screen displayed the AI’s simulated hands imparting the information. The being sighed and bowed his glowing head.  
“You have not been there for a very long time. Are you hiding or simply retreating?”  
The conscience knew by the approaching and slowly strengthening light that someone was coming. It could only one of two people. His one or his adviser. When the light filled the tiny room, the man didn’t turn his head, nor did he allow his eyes to drop to the screen on his sleeve. He continued to stare out of the small clear port, hoping his visitor would understand his wish to be left alone.  
When the hand settled lightly on his shoulder he shrugged it off, but it soon returned. The man sighed with irritation, both with himself as much as with the being who had chosen to not only disturb him, but not leave when he had made it obvious he wished no company. The inevitability of the situation annoyed him, something that had never happened before. So many new things, feelings. Especially fear and confusion. And no one to guide him. At the end of his education he was considered to be not only knowledgeable, but psychologically mature and thus no longer in need of any personal guidance and it was true, within his family’s kind and gentle embrace he had matured well, but so much of what he was capable of, as a human...his true potential, had never been tapped...indeed, until now he had not been aware he had these potentials. And now? Now that he had begun to see, that he had had the merest taste of what he might be? Could be? All this might be denied him?  
He closed his eyes and grimaced, his mind in turmoil. “But what of the people? I am the conscience, I was chosen. How can I be two people? How can I even consider abandoning all that I am...all that I have been?”  
The hand, so gently resting on his shoulder persisted in its silent request. Sighing again, the man dragged his eyes from the portal and glanced at his screen.  
“The last time you were here was when you were but a small child.”  
The man smiled, but still didn’t turn to face his visitor, who he now knew to be his adviser. That the being had chosen to speak without facing him only showed how deeply concerned he was.  
“And you, my friend, were just as small. Who told you of that?”  
“It was told to me by your one, many years ago.”  
The man grunted softly. “So I am responsible for you knowing about my secret place?”  
“You told your one much about your childhood. I always found it fascinating.”  
The man finally turned away from the port and squinted in the bright light. “You find it fascinating that, as a small child, I wished to have a secret place, a place I felt was mine and mine alone?”  
Although he could not see the being’s face, the man got the unmistakable impression he was smiling apologetically.  
“Our records are extensive. The behaviour of humans from birth to adulthood is well documented.”  
That made the man scowl. “So there is nothing about me you find unique? What an irony then, that my newly found brother is my identical twin! You must be pleased. I know the people do not like surprises.”  
There was an uncomfortable silence before more text appeared.  
“He is coming.”  
The man’s head snapped up and even in the bright light of the confines of the room, his eyes widened.  
“He is?” He said incredulously. Then with growing excitement, “When? Where?”  
“As soon as you wish and to wherever in the building you desire.”  
Making shooing gestures with his hands, the man encouraged his adviser to precede him through the small opening, requiring both beings to crawl through a short tunnel. Once out of it they turned sideways to negotiate a very narrow passage that emerged into an unoccupied room. It was bare and had not been used for a very long time. Now free to move, the man faced his adviser and said urgently, “Now! The long room....now!”  
“Very good, but you should be there alone when they arrive.”  
The man tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. In the much larger room, the light wasn’t as intense. His expression was one of wariness.  
“They?”  
“He is coming with the healer.”  
“And why won’t you be there too?”  
“You know they must not see the essence.”  
“Then cover yourself.”  
“No, it would be simpler if I was absent.”  
The man’s head lowered and he rubbed his fingers over his lower lip. “Don’t you think...” he began gently, “they deserve to know? They know of our power. They may not understand it fully or appreciate what it means to the people, but do you really think you can keep them from finding out? You know they’re curious, just as I am.” He smiled, but there was a grimness to it. “As I am sure all humans are. Now that they know of our existence and where we can be found and considering that they’ve seen a miniscule portion of what we can do...and what we represent in potential as an...ally because of it...” He shrugged. “I cannot see how you can prevent it.”  
Again there was a long silence before the text appeared on the screen.  
“Ultimately the decision is yours. But, forgive me; can you make a decision like that under these circumstances? Would you be making that decision as the conscience...or as a person who has made an extraordinary discovery about himself that may have a bearing on how you think? Please, I do apologise, but you are no longer the person you were. You have undergone a fundamental shift in your thought processes, you have moved away from your purpose. Your mind is no longer clear, but clouded with new and unsettling thoughts.”  
The man sighed, his brow creasing as he frowned.  
“Are you asking if I am going to abandon the people...my people? I am of this world, I was born here!” His eyes darkened and his gaze became intense. “I am the conscience.” His voice was soft and the statement a simple one, but it lost none of its power.  
“You say that with remarkable sincerity, and I do not doubt you, but I have to make you aware that you now have more in your mind than you had before. All I am saying is that you make your decisions as the conscience...not as a human who has discovered those of his origin...whether that be your brother or not.”  
Bowing his head in silent acknowledgement, the two beings made their way to the long room.

 

Beverly had hitched her backside on the corner of her desk and a thoughtful Jean-Luc stood, arms folded, but one hand free to rub his lower lips with his fingers. The monitor screen had been turned so Beverly could keep an eye on it and when text suddenly appeared she abruptly stood.  
“Jean-Luc.” She said tensely.  
He dropped his arms to his sides and read.  
“Prepare to be brought.”  
Jean-Luc was going to vocally acknowledge the statement, but in the blink of an eye he found he was no longer looking at a monitor screen, but a pastel mauve wall inset with a moderately large screen. It was dark, showing nothing on its surface. Beverly was about to comment on this when a door silently opened and the room was flooded by gentle light. The being that entered made Beverly gasp audibly, but Jean-Luc managed to contain his surprise. Silently the being approached and took one of each person’s hands, placing them on its shoulders, then led them from the room.  
Because of the light emitted by the being, it made it difficult to get a clear look at what surrounded them, but Jean-Luc got the impression there wasn’t all that much to see. A long, bare, warmly coloured corridor took them to a door, which opened silently at their arrival. They stepped inside and although the being kept walking, Jean-Luc halted, his hand slipping off the shoulder. Across the room, standing at a large wall comprised completely of some kind of clear material, stood his brother, his back to him.  
Jean-Luc’s eyes travelled over what he could see. A trim man, dressed in fairly normal clothing in muted colours, broad shoulders and large hands, but what really caught his eyes was the long, thick grey braid that hung down past the man’s waist.  
Beverly had stopped when she saw her husband had halted and watched as the alien went to the man and waited silently, standing behind him, not too close and to one side. The man at the clear wall took a deep breath and seemed to gather himself. He turned slowly.  
When their eyes met, Beverly could have sworn she felt a shift in the atmosphere as if some kind of energy had gently discharged. Much later, on reflection, she would liken it to the build up of ozone, just prior to a lightning discharge.  
Nothing was said for several long seconds, the brothers simply holding each other’s gaze in steady assessment. Feeling the need to break the connection, which Beverly felt may become uncomfortable and perhaps even unpredictable, she said quietly, but with summoned warmth, “Jean-Luc, your brother.”  
Then to the conscience she said respectfully, “Sir, your brother, Jean-Luc Picard.”  
It was Jean-Luc who moved. He slowly crossed the distance between them and offered his right hand. Slightly confused, the conscience looked at Jean-Luc’s hand, then back at his brother’s eyes, but saw nothing but calm resolve. Tentatively he raised his hand and took his brother’s. Rather than shake his hand, Jean-Luc simply gave a gentle, but firm squeeze, happy when his brother reciprocated. But they didn’t release their hold. As Jean-Luc watched, his brother brought their joined hands to his face and turned them until Jean-Luc’s hand was uppermost. What he did then shook Jean-Luc to his core. His brother laid the back of Jean-Luc’s hand against his face.  
Their eyes met again and the conscience said softly, “Je suis Picard.”  
Smiling for the first time, Jean-Luc said warmly, “En effet vous ệtes.”  
Beverly frowned in thought, trying to bring up the correct translation. Her face cleared and she smiled, thinking to herself, “Oh, yes, so you, Jean-Luc. ‘You are indeed’.”  
The conscience was smiling, his eyes suspiciously moist. Switching to standard, he said to his brother, “Do you...embrace?”  
Normally such a question would’ve made Jean-Luc very uncomfortable. The only people he’d ever felt totally at ease in embracing were his mother, Jack and Beverly. But this was so different, so extraordinary he let go of his brother’s hand and raised his arms before he actually gave it any thought.  
Beverly’s eyes filled with tears as two men, bound inextricably and undeniably by blood shared an embrace that covered not only over seventy years of time, but light years of space.

 

The alien being went to Beverly and gently took her hand. He began to lead her out of the room, but she resisted, protesting firmly, “No, I want to stay.”  
Still embracing his brother, the conscience opened his eyes and looked over to Beverly, his pleading look stifling her resistance. With an understanding smile, she allowed the alien to take her from the room.  
Predictably it was Jean-Luc who eased out of the hug. He took a small step back and each man studied the other. Jean-Luc with calm aplomb, his brother with overt curiosity. The captain stood still as his brother reached out and ran his fingers over the short bristles of hair around the side of Jean-Luc’s head, just above his ear. It made the conscience smile.  
“It never occurred to me to cut this off.” He reached back and took his braid, bringing it around to the front of his body. Jean-Luc had to open his hand wide to grip it and he hefted it in wonder.  
He snorted softly, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “Well, it never occurred to me to grow what little I had left.”  
They both chuckled then fell into a long silence. The conscience tilted his head and offered a lopsided smile.  
“I suppose you have many questions...Jean-Luc.”  
“Yes, probably as many as you do.”  
In a gesture Beverly would have gasped at, both men tilted their heads and pulled down the corners of their mouths. Then, in response to seeing the mirrored gestures, they both snorted and shook their heads. It was Jean-Luc who held up his hand.  
“Obviously we’re more alike than I...we...thought.”  
“Yes.”Agreed the conscience. “Beverly told me we shared quite a bit. But our questions, Jean-Luc. No doubt they are very different.”  
“Unfortunately, yes. I have to concentrate on my mission; my questions to you will be about...” He made a small sweep of his hand. “All this. Where you must want to know a lot of personal details about me...us.” He corrected quickly. “I, on the other hand will want to know about your people, your world.”  
“So it comes down to what each of us is willing to share.” The conscience sighed. “I had hoped for so much more.”  
“It needn’t be limited,” said Jean-Luc earnestly. “You or your...people...already know about Starfleet...the Federation. We, on the other hand, know next-to-nothing about your people, your world. You have the advantage. I can only offer you the details of your...our...family whereas I want so much more. I’m sorry, that’s not sharing per se, I have little to offer you in exchange.”  
The conscience’s eyes showed the light of anger.  
“Little, Jean-Luc?” he snapped. “You think what you hold in your mind about my human history if of such little value? You’re making some kind of equation...thinking that there is a perceived imbalance in the importance of what we might share?” He snorted derisively. “I can assure you, Jean-Luc, I place the utmost importance on anything you care to tell me about my origins and in return, I will impart all I can about what you covet about my people.”  
Jean-Luc sighed and bowed his head. “I apologise. It wasn’t my intention to place either of our information in a position of more importance over the other.”  
Mollified, the conscience gave a gracious incline of his head. Jean-Luc, however needed more information before he could ask anything else.  
“If I may, was this decision to meet me yours alone, or did you have to request permission?”  
The conscience’s eyebrows rose.  
“Are you saying you weren’t as curious as I?”  
Smiling wryly, Jean-Luc shook his head. “Not at all, I was of course intensely curious, but perhaps for more reasons than you.”  
“Ah, yes. Always the Starfleet captain.”  
Jean-Luc let the slightly bitter remark pass. He waited and was rewarded when his brother continued in a more convivial tone.  
Moving away slightly, the conscience glanced out at the dimness outside, then brought his eyes back to his brother.  
“The decision was mine, but it has been brought to my attention that I may have made my decision based more on my feelings about you and your...people, than all that I have been for my people and in truth I have to admit I may have been swayed, but the door has been opened now. I...we...must find a way to deal with the consequences of my decision in such as way as answer to both our peoples.”  
A smile appeared on Jean-Luc’s face, making his brother frown. He didn’t understand the nuances of human interaction and there was mild anger in his tone when he asked tightly,  
“You find this situation amusing?”  
Holding up a placating hand, Jean-Luc shook his head. “No, not at all.”  
“Then why do you smile?”  
Jean-Luc joined his brother at the clear wall and they stood shoulder-to-shoulder, each gazing outward.  
“A star ship captain has to have many skills. One that is often used is that of diplomat. You are an...” He cocked his head, but kept his eyes focused on the icy land outside. “An Arbiter for your people?”  
The conscience gave a one shoulder shrug. “Not necessarily correct, but close enough. The term conscience isn’t literal, but is closer to the truth in describing what I am to the people.”  
“I see.” said an interested Jean-Luc. “Then perhaps we have another thing in common. We both act in the best interests of our people. Surely, as we both possess the necessary skills, we can come to some mutually beneficial arrangement between our peoples?”  
Turning his head slightly, the conscience found it hard to keep the amusement out of his voice.  
“Jean-Luc, what, exactly, does the Federation have that we do not?”  
Jean-Luc’s expression was neutral at first.  
“On the face of it, nothing. But...” Jean-Luc’s eyes showed both his sadness and the point he was about to make. “your people asked for help...from us. We may lag far behind you in technology, but we have our uses.”  
With a small smile and a soft snort, the conscience said softly, “Touché.”  
They stood in companionable silence for a while before the conscience said quietly, “Tell me, Jean-Luc. Tell me about our human family, our genetic history. Beverly called it our lineage.”  
As Jean-Luc began to speak he realised in doing so he was gaining the opportunity to expunge long held, deeply buried feelings of resentment and pain, as if in the telling he could see his life objectively for the first time, tell his family history without the emotional baggage. He not only cleansed himself, but in the process, filled a gaping void in his brother. It was both cathartic and deeply humbling and as he continued he felt pride in his family and its illustrious history that he had allowed to become complacent about.  
Neither man looked at each other as Jean-Luc’s soft, deep voice quietly filled the otherwise silent room.

Just after Beverly had been ushered out of the room, she realised the being was reaching inside the top it wore. She tensed, wary and alert, but what she saw in the alien’s long-fingered hand surprised her. It seemed to be a standard issue medical tricorder which the being obviously wanted her to take. Placing her own tricorder in its pouch at her hip, she took the device and, having given it a cursory glance, saw that it was different in that it had a screen on the outer cover. As she looked at it, she registered the being lifting its hands. Immediately text appeared.  
“This device will function exactly as your own would. The only changes are the addition of the screen and the hyper laser, necessary for communication and the instrument has been made to operate silently.”  
That made Beverly wince quietly and offer a sad and rueful smile.  
“Yes, that was very unfortunate.” She sighed and rubbed her brow with her free hand. “The first precept of the Hippocratic Oath. Do no harm.”  
“You did not harm the children, Doctor, at least not physically and any psychological damage has already been assuaged by their parents. You need not feel any concern.”  
They began to walk again, Beverly keeping the screen in her line-of-sight. After travelling some distance she said mildly, “Do you have a gender?”  
“Yes. I am male.”  
“So...you’re a healer?”  
“No. I am the conscience’s personal adviser.”  
“Interesting.” Beverly said politely. “Tell me,” she said tentatively, “Would it be possible for me to consult with the healers dealing with the children?”  
“Consult, Doctor? I think you want to do more than that.”  
Anger flashed in Beverly’s eyes, but she kept her tone civil. “I hope you’re not suggesting I have an ulterior motive?”  
“Not at all, Doctor, but I cannot change things as they are.”  
Finding it increasingly difficult to see through the ambiguity of his words, a frustrated Beverly strove to keep things on a professional footing.  
“You must be aware by now that I have need of information that, as to date, has not been forthcoming.”  
“Yes, I am aware of that.”  
Exasperation crept into her voice. “Then if I can’t have access to what I need, how do you expect me to perform the task I was summoned to do?” Anger was beginning to colour her voice. “I’ve had my hands tied from the outset! All along I’ve been working in the dark only ever having half the information I need to make a diagnosis, let alone find a cure. I need all the pieces of the puzzle if I’m ever going to get a complete picture.”  
They had come to a door, but unlike all the other doors Beverly had seen in the building, this one didn’t automatically open. The being’s hands were raised to chest height and Beverly’s eyes went to the screen.  
“What you ask is no small thing, Doctor. We have been silent...perhaps in your language, obscure in that we have, as a species, deliberately kept a low profile. As the sentient beings of worlds in this sector of space began to expand outwards into the void, some in exploration and peace, some bent of conquering, we stayed out of the way, neither wishing nor needing any contact. It isn’t xenophobia, Doctor, nor is it prejudice, it is simply that we wish to be left alone, but we are not ignorant of what is happening around us.”  
He looked at the implacably closed door and sighed. “We know all about the Federation and its recent troubles, evident I suppose in our dealings with your ships not so long ago and we know well the Cardassians, the Romulans, we are even aware of the growing power and ambitions of the geopolitical entity calling itself the Typhon Pact and its implications to the balance of power in this sector, but we are so more technologically advanced, we have no fear of any of these entities, these...coalitions, as they mean nothing to us. We can adequately defend ourselves against any aggressor, although we would choose not to resort to overt violence if at all possible.  
“But, Doctor, in giving you...to use the conscience’s other language, carte blanche to our history, our technology and most importantly the essence of who and what we are, that could be catastrophic.”  
Beverly frowned, not liking the subtle implication. Before she could voice her protest, the text began again.  
“What you would learn would far exceed any oath you took to protect patients’ confidentiality, Doctor. Your superiors would compel you to divulge everything you know about us and inevitably there would be those within your organisation who would seek to use that information for the wrong purposes. To create vastly more efficient and powerful weapons, for instance.”  
Beverly shook her head vehemently, her protests forming on her lips. She barely kept her eyes on the screen.  
He held up his hands. “No, Doctor, you cannot deny or refute it. It is natural, such individuals, alone or in groups and more often than not in positions of power simply cannot help themselves. It happens in almost every form of government. It happens here too and it is for this reason we chose the concept of a conscience millennia ago and why we insist he be not of this world.”  
Beverly was having trouble assimilating what the being was saying. Politics had never been her forte, she had always left that to the likes of her husband, but how could she find her way through this to separate the political from the medical? Growing increasingly frustrated, Beverly decided on another tack.  
“All right, I accept that you and your people occupy a very special niche in space and that you wish to be left alone, I get that. But you asked us for help! My job now, as it always has been, is to find a cure for those children and I can’t do that without a clear understanding of your people’s anatomy and physiology. To expect me to do what you want without that information...well, I won’t say it’s impossible, but dammit, right now I can’t see how I could accomplish it.”  
Light blue text scrolled inexorably across the screen. Beverly had always liked the colour blue. She was beginning to detest it.  
“Doctor, the decision to request help from the Federation may have been a mistake, one that might bring about the end of my species.”  
“That’s a little dramatic, isn’t it?” asked an incredulous Beverly. “Those children are suffering from an inherited condition. In humans it resolves itself. I just need enough information about the non-human aspects of their genetic makeup and I should be able to cure them. Besides if I don’t and if I can’t find a way to turn off the defective gene, those children will be destined to pass on the condition in any children they may have, generation after generation.”  
As Beverly read the scrolling text, outrage and anger made her gape.  
“The children will never reproduce. It is not permitted.”  
“What?” She almost shouted. “Why the hell not?”  
“It is the mixture. They are not one or the other.”  
Aghast, Beverly’s hand dropped as she glared at the being.  
“I don’t believe this! You declare you’re not xenophobes, not prejudiced, yet you arbitrarily deny a fundamental right of any sentient being! How dare you?!”  
The highly charged silence that followed Beverly’s outburst was broken when the being sighed and used his slender-fingered hand to gently take Beverly’s and lift it, thereby silently asking her to read. Huffing impatiently, thinking nothing he could say could possibly justify what he’d told her, she reluctantly directed her eyes to the screen.  
“Are you not displaying your own prejudices, Doctor? You accuse me....my people of xenophobia and prejudice without being in possession of all the facts. It is not species purity just for the sake of propriety that is at the core of this matter, but our very existence. Every conscience that has lived has been given the opportunity to have a one...a mate. In some instances this one has been of the same gender as the conscience, but whatever the makeup of the relationship, the prospect of reproduction was always available. We found over time that our conscience functioned better if he had a companion and more often than not, such a relationship led to the desire to procreate. However...it was always known by both the conscience and his one that any offspring they produced would be forbidden to reproduce. The people never see the conscience, his one or his family. Not even an image. The family who volunteered to nurture him from his birth to adulthood are removed as soon as he takes his position and sequestered far away. They do this as a service to their society; it is a contribution that is almost sacred. His one also may never return, she must, like any children they produce, live out their lives within the confines of the complex. The only other place they may go is out onto the ice.”  
His head turned seeming to give the closed doors a long look. Sighing, his hands lifted again.  
“You will learn about us, doctor and in doing so you will come to understand why we have seemed to be so cruel. But before you begin your journey, I would ask you this. Are the lives of four adolescent hybrids worth the existence of an entire species? Billions of beings?”  
Confused and alarmed, Beverly shook her head. “I don’t understand how four teenagers could possibly destroy your species by breeding!”  
“You are thinking too linearly, Doctor. Expand your mind, keep in your thoughts that we have had a conscience for millennia and they have all reproduced. If all those hybrids, in all their different genetic types were introduced into our gene pool, over time the result would be our annihilation.”  
“But...don’t you possess the technology to remove the alien DNA? Can’t you purify any offspring?”  
Beverly got the distinct impression the being was smiling indulgently, as one would do towards a favoured child.  
“You are forgetting your own planet’s history. Tell me, Doctor, what happened during the Eugenics war and what was instituted in its aftermath, and why that was so?”  
Reddening slightly, Beverly clenched her jaw, an acerbic remark about smugness teetering on the tip of her tongue. Happily, she managed to curtail it.  
“Very well, you have a point. But I still find it unconscionable that you allow your conscience and his one to reproduce, only to forbid their children from having the same opportunity.”  
The being looked again at the door and tilted his head. Nothing appeared on the screen.  
Beverly looked at the seemingly innocuous door, slowly beginning to wonder just what waited inside. In the back of her mind she thought, “Journey? He said, journey.” Suddenly the door looked ominous and fear skittered around Beverly’s body. Her shiver wasn’t because of the all prevailing chill.  
Dragging her eyes back to the being, she summoned a steady voice. “You asked me if the lives of the children are worth the existence of your species. I can’t answer that. I’m not a philosopher, not a soothsayer, I can’t see into the future. All I can do is my job.”  
The being suddenly began to glow so brightly, Beverly screwed her eyes shut and covered her face with both hands. After a few moments she sensed the light diminishing and risked removing her hands and opening her eyes, but she still had to squint. It made reading the new text very difficult.  
“That is the essence, Doctor. It is what and who we are.”  
Without any sort of signal she could perceive, the door silently opened. The being gestured with his arm.  
“Enter, Doctor and find what you seek. But remember, our society, our species’ existence depends on what you do with what you learn.”  
It was with a great deal of trepidation that Beverly stepped inside.

 

Will Riker had never really imagined what it would be like to be a father. Even during their long discussions weighing all the pros and cons of becoming parents, it had always been Deanna who had offered the positive, always finding a way to counter his jaundiced views, inherent no doubt because of his own experiences with a remote and almost callous father and no mother to soften his bleak childhood.  
And yet here he was, his baby daughter cradled in his strong arm as she sucked contentedly on the teat in her little mouth. A frown developed on Will’s face as he once again thought about his lost love. The tears came unbidden and he made no effort to stop them. He was beginning to find the tears weren’t so wrenching, so devastating, just a form of release that left him feeling sad, but remarkably calm.  
He had reached this point only with the unstinting assistance of Counsellor Adams and through the techniques he had taught him, Will had come to accept that time and his love, devotion and dedication to his daughter would be the things that would safely bring him through the darkness of his grief.  
Having burped Charlotte, the big man, clad only in his briefs, lay back on the bed, his daughter resting on his hirsute chest. She too was almost naked, just a nappy on. Her little hands clutched his chest hair and he watched her as she settled into a comfortable position and drifted off to sleep. He had just begun to doze, one large hand protectively on the baby’s back when the call came from the bridge.  
“Bridge to Riker.”  
He didn’t open his eyes, but when Charlotte flinched he softly swore. Nevertheless, he replied, “Riker here. Go ahead.”  
“Commander, we’ve detected another energy burst from the anomaly and this time the computer got a very good look at it. The analysis is coming through now and I think you should see it, sir.”  
Looking down at the sleeping baby, Will sighed. “Very good, Lieutenant, I’m on my way. Riker out.”  
His next call was to his standby babysitter. It was done with well-oiled efficiency. The ensign arrived just as Will had dressed and he was out the door and on his way to the bridge in under ten minutes.  
The officer of the watch rose from the command chair and walked to join Will who had gone straight to the tactical station.  
“Show me what you’ve got.”  
This time the vid lasted almost three seconds. The flash was bright and sustained. Will lifted his head, saying with anticipation, “Computer, analysis of recent energy burst from the nearby anomaly.”  
“It is now certain the energy bursts are being generated by a manufactured, controlled nuclear fusion reaction, which is being deliberately generated and directed.”  
Stroking his beard, Will’s eyes narrowed. “Can you give me an exact location as to where the energy is being directed?”  
“Yes. Coordinates are being fed in now.”  
The numbers appeared on the console and Will smiled coldly. “Right! Computer, on the forward screen, display an image of the planet and locate and show position of coordinates.”  
Everyone on the bridge stared at the spot indicated on the planet’s surface, but nothing showed. They still could not scan or get a clear view of the surface.  
“Damn!” Muttered Will sourly. Chewing the inside of his cheek, Will said thoughtfully, “Computer, given that you have located the destination of the directed energy burst, what could be expected at the coordinates? How could such energy be collected? What would be required?”  
“It is impossible to give a definitive answer without knowing the level of technology in use. The fact that the manufactured star has been created at all suggests a level of technology so far advanced from what is known it is not possible to give a concise answer.”  
“Theorise!” snapped Will.  
“Unable to comply. Too many variables and not enough information available.”  
Now growing very annoyed, Will couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice when he said, “What...you can’t even guess?” The question was both deliberately sarcastic and rhetorical, but the computer answered anyway.  
“Guessing is not a function of this computer. I can extrapolate, I can theorise, but only with at least some valid information on which to base any theories.”  
The lieutenant smirked, saying sotto voce, “Smarmy bitch.”  
Will heard him and glowered at the young man, making him redden. Will’s voice was tight, his face hard and unyielding.  
“Whilst on the bridge, Lieutenant, a higher standard is expected and it’s just that kind of lax and indolent attitude that Captain Picard has recently made me aware of and that we both find completely unacceptable! If you wish to continue to enjoy the responsibility of being the officer of the watch on the flag ship of the fleet, you’d best make a major adjustment to your attitude! Is that clear?”  
“Yes, sir!” Said a mortified and highly embarrassed man. Will turned and raised his voice, addressing everyone on the bridge.  
“And that goes for the rest of you. Tell your fellow officers; get the message moving through the ship. The honeymoon is over! Captain Picard won’t stand for sloppiness and neither will I. Get it into your heads once and for all. This is the Enterprise! We expect only the best from each and every individual who serves in this ship, nothing else will be accepted! Understood?”  
There was a lusty chorus of, “Yes, SIR!”  
“Then go about your business and do it with pride.”  
Will strode down to the command chair and took his seat. He could feel the crackling of tension in the air and he smiled with grim satisfaction. He hesitated to undertake his next action, but he had little choice.  
“Riker to LaForge.”  
Geordi’s voice clearly showed he’d been asleep.  
“LaForge, here.”  
“Sorry to wake you, Geordi, but I need you in engineering, right now.”  
“On my way, Commander.”  
“Fine, I’ll meet you there. Riker out.”  
The big man stood, took two steps and gave the lieutenant, who was preparing to assume control of the bridge, a long, hard look. Will’s voice was soft, but carried a tacit warning. “I take it you can handle things in my absence?”  
Coming to attention, the young man mustered his dignity and pride. “Yes, Commander, I can.”  
Having given the man a frankly appraising look, Will nodded curtly. “You know where I’ll be?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Then, Lieutenant, you have the bridge.”  
The tension Will had felt didn’t decrease after he’d left and with any luck, (and a good bit of dedicated work from Will), it wouldn’t any time soon.

 

Jean-Luc’s voice finally fell silent. The two men, still standing side-by-side at the clear wall were both lost in deep thought. Jean-Luc was trying to understand what it must be like for his twin to assimilate all the information he’d just received and the conscience was just as absorbed in attempting to align his memories of his own family with what his brother had told him of his origins and family history.  
The conscience sighed and rubbed his fingers over his lower lip, a gesture not lost on Jean-Luc.  
“You say,” the conscience said softly, “that our family originated in a country called Spain?”  
“Yes.”  
“Does that mean another language? Or do the Spains speak standard? Or French, perhaps?”  
“Spanish.” Jean-Luc gently corrected. “As a regional language the Spanish speak the three major languages of Spain. Spanish, Basque and Catalan.”  
“Oh. Do you speak...Spanish, Basque or Catalan?”  
Jean-Luc gave a self-depreciating smile. “I can speak Spanish, but my Basque and Catalan isn’t so good.”  
More silence followed before the conscience asked, “Why the differences? If Earth’s sentient population are all human, why are there differences? These...countries...you speak of. What constitutes a country? And why would they speak a different language? Surely such differences makes contact and interaction difficult?”  
Sighing and bowing his head, Jean-Luc rubbed his brow. “It is a sad history, I’m afraid. I’ll try for a brief synopsis. Earth’s population has divided itself for a very long time in many and varied ways and for seemingly foolish reasons; most of them trivial by our modern, evolved standards. Where once it was simple acquisition of another’s land, it morphed into religions zealousness, growing into deadly fundamentalism, prejudice based on skin pigmentation and then came nationalism, often couched in the socially acceptable label of patriotism. And all that slowly led to some scientists who dabbled in creating the perfect example of a human being which, of course, escalated into creating a class of ubermensch.”  
To the conscience’s raised eyebrow, Jean-Luc explained, “Super men.”  
“Ah,” the conscience said sadly. “The Eugenics war.”  
“Yes. But there’s more. I’m embarrassed to admit humankind even discriminated on the basis of gender. Females have been discriminated against, subjugated, oppressed, treated as lesser beings simply because of their gender. Racial discrimination was dreadful enough, but gender discrimination? It made even less sense, if indeed one can ascribe any sense to discrimination of any kind, at least as seen from what and how we are now.”  
The conscience frowned, trying to understand such strange notions.  
“Although I cannot fully understand the concept of discrimination, I still do not understand the reason for countries.”  
Jean-Luc’s habitual scratching of the short bristled hair above his right ear made the conscience blink in surprise. “I do that!” he thought incredulously. The captain, having gathered his thoughts, started haltingly.  
“Countries. Yes, well.” He shook his head offering a rueful, embarrassed smile. “Here I am telling you we’ve evolved and I have just told you our family history, and what I felt as I recounted that information was pride. Pride not only in the family name, but the countries from which we came.” A soft snort punctuated his words. “I am proud to be French! France has a long, rich history...” His face fell, losing its enthusiastic eagerness. “But I can’t deny that same history isn’t littered with unspeakable barbarity and cruelty.” He sighed, trying to find the words to adequately describe or indeed explain why humans remained proud of their country of origin in a time when Earth has a world government and an interstellar Council. It was incongruous, an anathema, yet it existed, just as it had done since mankind associated themselves with specific regions of the planet and probably would persist in doing so as long as humans were born on Earth.  
“So many things about humans, right throughout our history have been decided, preordained if you will, simply by virtue of where one is born. Not only nationality or race, but even religion. I suppose it’s an ancient, deeply ingrained need to belong...to share something in common with those with whom you associate. That it has persisted for so long and still does to this very day, seems to suggest that despite our taking our place as interstellar travellers and our charter of peaceful exploration, perhaps we should pay more attention to our old habits. I’m sure they could stand some examination...some scrutiny.”  
“It is an odd concept, Jean-Luc. It’s little wonder it took your world so long to unify.”  
“Indeed.” Turning slightly, Jean-Luc regarded his brother thoughtfully, stunned yet again at seeing such a familiar profile. “What of your world? You are the conscience and from what you said earlier, that seems to be a very delicate position. Can you tell me more? On what do you base your...judgements?”  
“They are not judgements, Jean-Luc, not absolute.” The man smiled and turned his head to catch his brother’s steady gaze. “The system is an elegant one. Very old. The people have a civil body that deals with the every-day issues that arise. Just because my people are highly evolved does not mean they live in absolute harmony. There are disagreements, squabbles, but rarely ever crime or physical violence. Such things as those are never tolerated and the punishment for such indiscretions is comprehensive.”  
To Jean-Luc’s concerned expression, the conscience smiled with almost paternal benevolence. “Do not trouble yourself, Jean-Luc. By punishment I do not mean anything punitive or draconian. It is a simple method of education, a reaffirmation of our society’s values and the invaluable respect and esteem that is the right of each and every citizen. My place is to deal with the larger issues, those that affect the governing bodies and the planet as a whole. Those ships that drifted into our space? It was my decision to render aid.” He shook his head, a wry chuckle rumbling through his chest. “That, Jean-Luc was not popular. My advisor was not happy, but we have never ignored any ship in peril and I wasn’t going to set a precedent simply because the ships involved had been damaged as a result of a war that had nothing whatsoever to do with us.

“Of course, in bringing those ships here, we ran the risk of what turned out to be an inevitable conclusion. We knew about Earth of course, although...” He chuckled again, but this time mirthlessly, bitterness taking any humour from the sound. “I personally had no knowledge of it; that only came to me recently. But what my people learned from those ships’ computers...well, we knew the Federation was never going to let the matter rest. And then there was the incident with the Borg cube. Again, it was a conflict that was not our concern, but what were we to do? One species slaughtering billions? And for what? To us, it was senseless, unconscionable and when one of our ships encountered the battle between three federation ships and the two Borg ships...and the carnage that was taking place, we were compelled to act. We may not have helped you in your conflict with the Borg, but in that one instance, it seemed just to stop what was happening. Our only regret is that our ship arrived too late to save yours.  
“As for me? Where necessary I receive petitions from my people and I use my intimate knowledge of the law, combined with what I know of the expectations of my people’s society to arrive at my decision. It is not binding, there is no law that compels the people to accept or even obey, and yet they have never rejected the decision of a conscience. To do so would be to reject the very system they have developed and live by. It is trusted, I am trusted. My people trust the system implicitly and so they should! It works and it works very well.”  
When Jean-Luc said nothing, the conscience tried to gauge his emotions, to correctly interpret his expression, but the man was so glacial, so unreadable and with no experience of dealing with humans he had nothing with which to compare or judge. Feeling out of his depth, the man began to feel nervous, something he was completely unaccustomed to.  
“Jean-Luc,” he said with more force than he intended. When his brother’s eyes sharpened, the conscience modulated his tone. “Forgive me; I do not know how to interact with you on an emotional level. I want to ask you what you are thinking, but something tells me it is inappropriate to ask that of you.”  
Jean-Luc sighed and his expression softened. “Forgiveness is not required; you have done nothing wrong, it is I who should apologise. I need to keep reminding myself that you have had no experience in dealing with humans...or anyone other than those members of your staff.” He summoned a small, apologetic smile. “And I am embarrassed.”  
Tilting his head, the twin asked, “Embarrassed? Why?”  
“Because...” Jean-Luc frowned and shook his head. “Because I had some preconceived ideas about you and I am ashamed that I was so conceited...so arrogant...” Again he sighed. “I told you I possessed the skill of a diplomat. It seems I’ve deluded myself...and you.”  
“In what way?”  
“You are aware of the Prime Directive of course. Well...”  
The conscience held up his hand.  
“Stop. The what?”  
Dismay made Jean-Luc grimace. “No...”  
Growing alarmed, the brother narrowed his eyes and peered at his twin. “Jean-Luc? What are you talking about? What is the...Prime Directive? Why does it upset you so and what has it to do with me?”  
Taking a deep breath, Jean-Luc gave his brother the basics of Starfleet’s General Rule No. One. To his credit, the conscience listened impassively, but as Jean-Luc began to outline his dilemma involving the situation he now found himself in, the conscience began to get angry. Before Jean-Luc had finished, the twin said loudly, “By what right do you think you can remove me from my people?! How dare you?!”  
Holding up both hands to try and placate the incensed man, Jean-Luc said quietly, “I admitted my conceit and my arrogance, but that doesn’t alter the situation. As unpalatable as it is, I have sworn an oath...given my word, my honour, to uphold all the rules of Starfleet and the most important of those rules is the Prime Directive. But now that I’ve met you, heard you, I cannot in all good conscience obey that rule. So where does that leave me? Us?”  
Turning his back on the vista of frozen land, Jean-Luc bowed his head and closed his eyes. Softly, almost a whisper he said, “I don’t know what to do.”  
The conscience remained facing the clear wall, his eyes settled on the dark middle distance. “I have never sworn an oath, given my word, but I do understand what honour is. If you have put your personal honour at stake, then I cannot help you. Like you, I do not know what you can do. I was nearly thirteen when I first heard the word, human, and it took a while before I realised it was what I was, that the word referred to me to describe my difference. But, Jean-Luc, it meant nothing to me. I have known from my earliest memories that I was not like my family, even the inability of my parents and siblings to communicate with me until I learned a spoken language wasn’t seen by me as anything unusual, it was simply the way things were. It wasn’t even a matter of acceptance because that would imply I knew of another way. I didn’t. The only thing I knew with unshakable certainty was that I was chosen, that I was the conscience. Even before I recognised things like affection and relationships those two fundamental truths were always uppermost. It would be untrue to say that finding you, of learning of my human history hasn’t shaken me, disturbed my previous ordered and uncluttered existence, but I cannot discard a lifetime of service to my people. Nor can you even consider disrupting the will of the people. I do understand your dilemma, Jean-Luc, I share it, but I cannot help you with it. I do not know how.”  
Again silence settled as each man wrestled with the problem. Eerily, as if by some unspoken agreement, they turned at the same time to face each other. It was Jean-Luc who spoke.  
“Let it rest for now. We have other things to discuss.”  
Curious, but a little wary, the twin asked softly, “Such as?”  
Jean-Luc’s expression was once again closed and his brother was beginning to understand the man was habitually private, another trait he shared.  
“Your people. They glow. So do your ships.”  
Immediately the conscience’s face hardened and he turned his head away. Jean-Luc sensed he had trespassed on something intensely personal. To ease the situation and to keep gently digging, Jean-Luc said in a conversational tone, “There are creatures on Earth, indeed on other worlds as well, that possess a phenomenon called bioluminescence. It is the ability through a biochemical reaction to create light. Doctor Crusher...Beverly...hypothesised that your people have the same ability, but I don’t think so. We’ve been studying the anomaly that sits in space, not far from this planet. From it, regular discharges of what we know to be energy bursts emerge and that the source of those bursts of energy is a manufactured star within the anomaly.  
“Now at the time I left my ship, we knew that energy was being deliberately generated, directed and presumably collected. It is my belief that the energy and its generation has something to do with your people’s ability to glow. Am I right? Are you willing to tell me anything about it?”  
Slowly turning back to his brother, the conscience’s face showed almost sullenness. Jean-Luc didn’t quite know how to take his brother’s mood.  
“I do not know the complete history of my world, Jean-Luc.” Even his tone was churlish. “But Beverly does, she is learning it as we speak. When you next see her, she will know more than I have ever been told. No doubt she will be only too pleased to answer all your questions.”  
With that, the conscience abruptly left his brother and stalked out of the room, leaving a stunned Jean-Luc standing alone at the clear wall. “Was that jealousy?” He muttered. Then worry began to dog him. “Where the hell is Beverly? And what did he mean by ‘When I next see her’?”  
Stirred into action, Jean-Luc strode quickly to the door, only to find it wouldn’t open. He searched in vain for some kind of opening mechanism but ultimately he had to accept he was locked in.

 

Standing with his hands flat, arms braced, bent over and staring down at the main engineering console, Will barely acknowledged Geordi’s arrival. The smaller man joined the commander and his blue, ocular implants reflected the light of the panel as he studied the images. Will stood upright and stabbed a finger at the console.  
“That,” he said with a sneer, “is a problem I want solved.”  
Screwing his head to one side, Geordi bared his teeth and pulled a breath in, producing a sibilant hiss. “That’s one hell of a problem, Commander. I’m not certain we can give you what you want.”  
Slapping his hand down, Will’s face twisted in an uncharacteristic show of anger.  
“We have coordinates, Geordi! We know where to look! There must be something you can do to penetrate whatever it is the aliens are doing to shut us out!” He spun around and glowered at the large schematic of the ship on the wall.  
“Godammit, we can’t even see the surface with our own eyes! It gives a whole new meaning to the term working blind!”  
Suddenly realising what he’d said, Will pinched the bridge of his nose and sore softly. “Shit.” He turned to the dark engineer, his expression both frustrated and contrite.  
“I’m sorry, Geordi, I didn’t mean to...”  
Geordi smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Commander. Since I got these,” he pointed at his cybernetic eyes, “it’s not an issue any more.” His smile faded as he directed his attention back to the tabletop-like console. “That, on the other hand, is an issue.” His short expulsion of breath showed his discouragement. “I don’t know what to tell you, sir. I’ve tried just about everything, hell we’ve even dumped warp power into the scanner grid but we just can’t punch through.”  
Folding his arms across his broad barrel chest, Will glared at the console top. His sour expression slowly changed and, as Geordi watched the light came back into the exec’s eyes.  
“What if we’ve been going at this the wrong way?”  
“Meaning what?” said Geordi with growing interest.  
“Well, instead of trying to crack the egg with a hammer, why not use a feather?”  
Mouth ajar and a quizzical expression on his face, Geordi said tentatively, “I’m not with you, Commander.”  
“Okay,” said Will, thinking on the run. “Our scanners use high energy, invisible light particles to see by comparing the stream of the particles as they’re distorted over or around anything within their range, thus providing us with an image. What if we ditched the technology; took a step back in time and used microwaves instead? Or even sound?”  
Snapping his fingers, Geordi muttered, “Radar or sonar?” At first he was excited, but then his face clouded with uncertainty. “Well, it’s possible I guess, but, Commander, that’s like using a chisel and a stone tablet in place of a PADD. Besides, radar is still using radiation in the form of light, only in radio waves...microwaves. ”  
“Yes,” agreed Will. “But those waves are only light, not particle light.”  
Geordi’s frown was deepening. “Yeah, but there’s still not that much difference. I mean all light is particle light...”  
The big man grinned but it was a cold gesture. “Oh, I agree, but we know the aliens possess technology that makes us look prehistoric, why not act like it. Besides, they’re using something too sophisticated for us to crack and that’s probably because they always thought they’d be dealing with some level of modern technology to protect themselves against, even if it wasn’t as good as theirs...but...if we used something very unsophisticated, maybe it’ll get through simply because they never considered anyone would use something so primitive.”  
With a shrug, Geordi pulled down the corners of his mouth. “Well why not? It’s not as of it’ll do any harm.”  
He tapped in a few commands, but snorted and shook his head, making Will frown. “What is it?”  
The chuckle that bubbled up from the engineer was warm. “I’m going to have to coax the computer into doing this. I really don’t think it’s going to believe me when I request it.”  
Will smiled, his eyes twinkling. “How long, do you think?”  
“Not long, Commander. If either radar or sonar is going to work, we should know pretty damn quick.”  
“In that case, if you have no objection, I’ll stay.”  
Geordi grinned and said sotto voce, “As long as you don’t scare my staff. Word’s already made it down here.”  
Holding up his hand, Will’s smile was wry.  
“Promise.”  
“Okay. Now, let me see if the computer will still talk to me after I input these commands.”

 

The door slid closed so silently, Beverly was unaware it had shut until she noticed the light level was only moderate and she quickly realised her escort wasn’t with her. Turning sharply she confirmed she was indeed alone and the door, which was indistinguishable from the inner surface of the wall had sealed. Turning back around and with growing unease, Beverly did her best to study her surroundings dispassionately.  
It wasn’t a large room but its lack of size took nothing away from its astonishing shape and shimmering kaleidoscope of muted colours that slowly appeared on all the surfaces as she watched. The chair, situated in the exact centre of the elliptical room was so innocuous Beverly wasn’t concerned about it at all, in fact going to sit in it seemed to be the most natural thing she’d ever done. It was slightly warm, at odds with the somewhat chilly air, something she had become accustomed to in the building, and its padding was firm, but comfortable.  
She settled, her fear gone. No restraints appeared, there was nothing preventing her from leaving the chair, but she stayed, now becoming intensely curious, even eagerly anticipating what was to come.  
Wide-eyed, she watched as the melange of soft colours began to move, swirling and sliding with sinuous grace all around her. Wherever she looked, the colours changed and intensified. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered a very old computer generated visual effect called virtual reality but why that particular thought had surfaced, she had no idea.  
When the shaft of pure, cold white light speared down from above, striking her in the precise centre of the top of her head, her body went momentarily rigid, then just as quickly relaxed. Eyes drifting closed, her physical self went into a form of bio stasis. Her mind however opened like a slowly blooming flower and into it poured information at a phenomenal rate. Although her face was slack her closed eyes darted back and forth, faster than any humans’ could possibly move as if she was experiencing some kind of ultra-extreme REM sleep.  
Time had no meaning for Beverly. Much as Jean-Luc had once experienced a lifetime of another man in twenty-five minutes, so Beverly experienced the entire history of the aliens in just over an hour.  
To protect her delicate brain tissue and to prevent the danger of the synapses and neurons firing too rapidly as the massive amount of information flooded into her, the light coated each and every cell within her brain with a protective covering of a protein, developed by the aliens and able to be adapted to any species they had encountered over their long history.  
At the end of the download, the spear of light vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. At first Beverly stayed motionless, apart from slow, shallow respiration and an equally slow and faint heartbeat, to all intents and purposes, she was inert. If scanned, no brain activity would’ve been observed or measured. Twenty slow minutes passed before Beverly’s brain began to function again, but it took a further fifteen minutes before any physical reaction took place.  
The first movement was in her right thumb. It twitched then began to jerk spasmodically. This spastic movement soon overtook her entire hand, then her left hand and very quickly her entire body was jerking as if in some kind of macabre dance. It only ceased when her eyes finally opened. Initially there was nothing in them, just blankness, but gradually the pupils contracted and they cleared and as they did, Beverly gasped loudly.  
She still wasn’t aware of who she was, or where she was, nor did she know what now resided in her brain but she was quickly regaining control of herself. She didn’t hear the door open, but the sudden bright light made her squint and hold up her hand to shield her vision in a reflex action.  
She felt rather than saw the hands that gently took hold of her head, but as soon as the cool fingers made contact, everything fell into place. Her mouth fell open and her free hand tried to cover it, but she couldn’t stifle the cry of astonishment and shock. “Oh, my dear God!”  
Heart thundering in her chest, Beverly struggled to calm herself enough to speak. “What?” She swallowed dryly, nausea making her feel ill. “What have you done to me?”  
The light dimmed to something more acceptable and the hands removed themselves from her head. A small screen was placed on her lap. She picked it up with violently trembling hands. Somehow she had to find a way to steady herself enough to not only read, but absorb the words.  
“Please, Doctor, just relax.” The text read. “What you are feeling now will soon dissipate.”  
It was true. With each passing minute the sensations of disorientation and nausea began to subside. Blinking away unbidden tears, Beverly read, “Much has happened, Doctor, your brain has experienced something quite remarkable.”  
That made alarm surge through Beverly and she tensed, taking her eyes off the screen and squinting at the glowing being in front of her.  
“My brain?” She said with distressed fear. “What have you done to my brain?”  
The alien slid his hand under the screen and gently lifted it making it obvious he wanted Beverly to return her attention to the text.  
“Nothing harmful has been done, Doctor. Once you have become accustomed to the...expansion...and assimilated the information, we will return your brain to its former state, but you will remember all that has been inputted.”  
“Why?” said a now deeply concerned Beverly. “Why do you have to do anything more to my brain?”  
“Because it cannot be left as it is now. As I have already told you, we have done no harm, but your brain has been altered so that it was capable of receiving the amount of information it did and at a rate that in a normal human brain would be simply impossible. Now that the information has been deposited in your cerebral cells, we can now return your brain to its natural state. The convenience of this process is that you will have full access to what we have given you without any deleterious effects. In human parlance, you’ll be none the worse for the experience.”  
Whispering her questions and afraid of the answers, Beverly asked tremulously, “What will you do? How long will it take?”  
The continuing tears, over which Beverly had no control made it difficult to read. She blinked several times, but eventually had to wipe her eyes with her hands. Sniffing softly, she read,  
“The procedure is a simple one, Doctor. You will feel nothing and it will be over relatively quickly.”  
“And then?”  
“You will feel perfectly normal. The only difference you will perceive is the vast amount of new information you now possess.”  
“And what am I to do with all this information? You said your species’ existence depends on what I was to learn in here.”  
“That has always been and always will be up to you. I suppose your first priority will be to answer all the questions Captain Picard has, but after that? I cannot say. I have no more control over you as I have over the conscience.”  
“Whose idea was this? Who authorised it?”  
“It was the conscience, but at the root of his desire for you to have all this information was that you use it to cure his children. In my mind, a very high price to pay for virtually no gain.”  
Gaining both strength and emotions other than fear and dread, Beverly muttered bitterly, “Yes, I remember. The lives of the children against the existence of your species. How could I forget?”  
“Do not judge us too harshly just yet, Doctor. Not until you understand what it is you now possess.”  
Before Beverly could say anything further, the being removed the screen and with gentle movements, encouraged Beverly to settle back into the chair. The light shot down without warning and once again, Beverly’s body and mind separated and became inert, but this only lasted ten minutes and at the extinguishing of the light, Beverly’s eyes opened and she blinked in surprise. The first words she said were soft but filled with awe and wonder.  
“Star people! You’re all literally star people!”  
The being bowed slightly and somehow, although she could see no face, Beverly was certain he was smiling.

 

Will was leaning his hip against the edge of the console-top, arms folded across his chest and his legs crossed at the ankle. With his head tilted and bowed, his eyes were directed at the readouts on the screens, keenly watching the progress of the laboriously slow scan. Microwave had failed, but sonar hadn’t. Geordi had whistled softly as, having convinced a dubious computer to comply with his instructions; an image had begun to appear. Grossly distorted at first, Geordi had manipulated the controls, bringing the image first to something coarse and grainy then, with long held patience, a clearer and clearer image crystallised until, finally they could see an unadulterated picture of what existed at the coordinates.  
Will grunted angrily and jabbed his finger downwards, growling, “It’s a damned dish! They’re using some kind of dish as a collector.”  
Geordi was studying his readouts intently. “Yeah, Commander, but look at this.”  
Will cast his eyes over a set of numbers and what seemed like formulae. He scowled and shook his head.  
“What the hell are they...and where did they come from?”  
Frustration and helplessness was clearly evident in Geordi’s voice as he said, “I don’t know! Dammit, Commander, Data would have this worked out in minutes!”  
“Yeah, well we’re just going to have to get by on our own.”  
Seeing the stab of pain on the engineer, Will sighed. “Oh, hell, Geordi...”  
The lieutenant commander shook his head and summoned a small smile. “It’s okay, sir, I feel it too.” He looked down at the figures and ran a hand over his tightly curled, short black hair. “What I don’t get is why we’re seeing all this. I mean how did it get here? We used sound waves to see an object. I don’t understand how that could’ve triggered any release of...whatever this is.”  
“What does the computer have to say?” said a hopeful Will.  
“Well that’s just it. The computer should’ve calculated all of this as it arrived. But it didn’t. This...” He pointed at the sets of figures and formulae, “Is raw data and I have absolutely no idea what it means, what it represents or even where it came from.”  
Chewing his upper lip, Will stared down at the display as if by sheer force of will he could unlock the puzzle. “Well, considering we received it when we got through their shielding or whatever it is they’re using, doesn’t it stand to reason that it’s connected somehow to the dish?”  
“Who knows?” shrugged Geordi. “It might be, but on the other hand it might be some kind of automated response to having their defences breached.” The engineer’s cybernetic pupils dilated and rotated. His expression was grim. “And it may be an algorithm designed to corrupt any computer connected to the system that managed to break in.”  
“A back-door fire wall?” Will’s tone was tight with alarm.  
“I don’t know!” Geordi stepped back from the console and again ran a hand over his head. “Commander I’m really not sure we should even try to calculate those sets of figures let alone solve the formulae. Without knowing what the result could be...”  
Will grimaced, remembering another invasive computer program. “The Iconian probe.”  
Geordi nodded, his expression filled with dread.  
“And the Iconians were not only ancient, but long gone, despite their superior technology.” He pointed at the console-top. “These people are very real, alive and super smart. Who knows what nasty little surprises they might have booby-trapped their defences with.”  
“Damn.” said Will softly. The call from the bridge only served to raise the level of tension in engineering.  
“Stevers to Riker.”  
“Riker here.”  
“Sir, we’ve just detected another energy burst.”  
Will’s eyes locked on to Geordi’s and the engineer nodded. “Send everything you’ve got down here to engineering, Stevers. Riker out.”  
With their eyes still locked, Will said softly, as if asking the question would invite disaster, “We’re still scanning?”  
“Yep.”  
“Well, one way or another, this should be interesting.”  
Gallows humour had always made Geordi laugh, but not this time. With his captain and CMO on the planet and what could prove to be a malevolent virus sitting idle in their system, God only knew what kind of risk they were taking, scanning during an energy discharge while linked.  
Throughout the entire event, their eyes remained locked on each other’s. It wasn’t until the computer announced the culmination of the process that both men looked down and it was a very uncharacteristic expletive from Geordi that spoke for everyone.  
“Fuck!”  
Looks of utter astonishment and incomprehension were on all the faces around the console. Gesturing with his hand, Geordi said, awestruck, “What the hell is going on here?”  
He gently tapped a control and not only the vid of the scan replayed, but the computer’s analysis appeared on the screen. Will pointed at the bright, nebulous cloud that appeared from the left of the screen, drifting rapidly to the right and settling over the disc, then sedately descending to be quickly absorbed.  
“Is that the energy burst?”  
“No!” Geordi’s voice carried urgency. “That...” he pointed to another, just discernible shaft of light. “is the energy burst.”  
“So what’s the cloud thing?”  
“I have no idea, but the computer’s saying it’s energy, the same kind as the burst from within the anomaly.”  
“Well...” Will ran his hand over his head. “Well okay, but where did it come from? Are they collecting somewhere else and shunting it around? As if they have some kind of distribution net...you know, shove it off to where it’s needed?”  
“Commander, I don’t know...and neither does the computer. All it’s saying is that the type of energy is the same as the bursts from space.”  
“All right, Geordi.” He lifted his head, while rubbing his greasy brow; suddenly realising he needed a shower. “Computer, is it possible to locate the source of the energy cloud?”  
“Unable to comply. Insufficient data.”  
Undaunted, Will tried another tack.  
“Computer, accept that the energy cloud coincides with the energy discharges from the anomaly.”  
Geordi shook his head, a protest forming on his lips. Will raised a hand to silence him and continued with the computer. “At the exact moment another discharge is detected, using the sonar scanner, sweep the surface of the planet and locate the source of the energy cloud.”  
The chimes of compliance were ignored as Geordi got to express his disagreement.  
“Commander, we have absolutely no evidence to suggest the two phenomena are connected. While we’re concentrating our meagre scanners elsewhere, who knows what the aliens might be doing to stop us. They may even activate that...” he pointed to the ominous sets of figures and symbols and grimaced. “whatever it is while we’re looking the other way. I mean hell, sir; the cloud itself might be a ruse.”  
“Yes, it might,” said Will fatalistically. “And it might not but we’re not going to find out one way or another by doing nothing.” he took a deep breath. “Look, I know you’re worried...cautious...so am I, but we’ve been at the rough end of the stick with these people long enough. It’s time to be a little more proactive, don’t you think?”  
Geordi’s worried frown eased and he sighed. Shaking his head he said wryly, “You make it sound like a game of parrises squares.”  
Will’s soft chuckle rumbled up from his deep chest. “Actually I prefer Ambo-Jitsu, but if it’s competitive spirit you’re referring to, yeah, I’ve got it, and I’ll be damned if we’re going to sit up here, quaking in our boots because of a few numbers and symbols sitting on a screen.”  
Geordi softly winced, his expression one of guarded disbelief.  
“If you say so, sir. I’m not so sure I’d be so keen to welcome mayhem with such open arms.”  
Jerking his head to one side, Will shrugged. “Do what you can to isolate whatever that is...” he used his chin to indicate the formulae and numbers. “But keep at it Geordi. I really don’t like mysteries.”  
The engineer muttered quietly to Will’s retreating back, “I’ve heard that one before, Commander.”

 

When the door suddenly slid open, Jean-Luc was at the clear wall, staring out, deep in thought. He only knew the door had opened by the sudden increase of light. He turned and couldn’t suppress the gasp of delight and relief at seeing Beverly, seemingly unharmed. He took a few quick steps towards her, his arms beginning to rise, but he quelled the urge to take her in his embrace and settled for placing his hands on her shoulders and peering into the depths of her blue eyes.  
The being stood quietly to one side, deliberately ignored by the captain.  
“Are you all right?” He said softly but earnestly, worry creasing his normally smooth brow.  
Her smile banished his concern but that only paved the way for his anger to surface. Beverly saw the tell-tale tightening around his mouth and was quick to forestall any expression of angst he may have wanted to direct at the adviser.  
“I’m fine,” she emphasised carefully, gripping his arms and forcing him to listen. “Jean-Luc, I know.”  
Tilting his head slightly and sharpening his gaze a now suspicious Jean-Luc said warily, “Know? What is it you know, Beverly?”  
Her smile widened and her eyes actually danced with joy. “Everything! I know every single thing about these people, Jean-Luc. I can answer any question you put to me about them.”  
Reluctantly dragging his eyes away from his excited wife, Jean-Luc turned his head and studied the adviser. No one said anything and the tension slowly grew. Beverly, not quite understanding why Jean-Luc would be so cold and angry towards the alien, tried to ease the situation by saying, “Jean-Luc, he took me to this room and...”  
The captain cut her off, asking curtly, “Why was I detained against my will?”  
Confused, Beverly looked from her husband to the adviser. “What?” She said disbelievingly. “You detained him...against his will?”  
She turned her look into a glare. “Why? Why was my husband kept as a prisoner?”  
With no screen available, no answer was given. The adviser simply turned and left the room. As the door was closing, Jean-Luc released Beverly and sprinted the few metres to the door, greatly relieved when it opened again for him. Beverly joined him and leaned out, looking up and down the vacant corridor. “Well,” she observed wryly. “We seem to be alone.”  
Stepping back inside and waiting for Beverly to join him, Jean-Luc had one more test of the door and, seeing it open silently at his approach, let out a soft grunt. “And no longer detained.”  
Reaching up and gently cupping Beverly’s chin, he looked into her eyes and said softly, “You’re sure? You weren’t harmed in any way?”  
“No, there were a couple of times when I was frightened, but no one hurt me.”  
Taking her hand, he led them back to the clear wall. Instead of looking out into the dim darkness, Jean-Luc faced his wife and said, “All right, tell me everything you know.”  
Beverly barked out an incredulous laugh and shook her head. “My God, Jean-Luc! You have absolutely no idea what you’ve just asked me to do! These peoples’ society is hundreds of thousands of years old and I know everything! Asking me to tell you everything I know would take years!”  
Momentarily stunned and trying to get a grasp of what she was saying, Jean-Luc opted for, “Well, can you tell me what’s relevant to our situation?”  
Throwing up her arms, Beverly walked a tight circle. “Relevant to our situation? Where do I start, Jean-Luc? Do I confine myself with the medical side of things? Or political perhaps? Or maybe ethical concerns? Jesus! It’s all connected, Jean-Luc! These people aren’t like anything we’ve ever come across before. They’re unique, not only in the way the conduct themselves, either as a society or as a technologically superior species, but as a quirk of nature.” Taking a deep breath and trying to control herself, Beverly took Jean-Luc’s hands and stared into his eyes.  
“Jean-Luc,” she said softly but the softness of her voice took nothing away from the awe in her voice. “These people are star people!”  
“Meaning what, exactly?” said a still wary Jean-Luc who was beginning to wonder if his wife hadn’t indeed been...altered somehow.  
“Okay, this is going to take a while. Come on, sit down.”  
They sat with their backs against the clear wall, legs stretched out in front of them. Jean-Luc, still a little dubious, smiled wanly as Beverly took his hand in hers and rested both on her thigh.  
“So, we start so long ago, Jean-Luc, I can’t give you a date, it’d be meaningless. Just accept it was hundreds of thousands of years ago, okay?”  
He nodded silently.  
“These people haven’t always lived on this planet. Their original home planet was much closer to this system’s star, closer than Earth is to its star. For some reason over time, the people began to exhibit what we would expect from close proximity to solar radiation, you know, carcinoma-type tumours of all kinds, external and internal, deterioration of sight, genetic defects, basic, classic symptoms of radiation exposure, even though they had presumably evolved to live under those conditions. On Earth it’s long been known that the body can (within limits) repair DNA and cellular damage caused by relatively high, short term exposure to gamma radiation, but....long term low dose, well the body simply can’t cope, so these peoples’ bodies began to adapt to compensate...including the very odd fact that within a relatively short period of time, all their newborns began to be born glowing. Now even so long ago, their medical community was capable of healing all these health problems, but there was little they could do about the cause. And, despite being able to cure the illnesses, they could do nothing about the glowing and because it seemed to have no deleterious effect on the children, it became an accepted facet of their society. So, as you’d expect, slowly but surely the non-glowing population was gradually replaced by those who glowed, until the entire population all glowed.  
“Unlike Earth’s 20th-21st century with the thinning of the ozone layer and global warming, these people understood the value of their atmosphere, but that wasn’t the problem. It was they themselves. Somehow their evolutionary journey had taken an unfortunate path...why, they never discovered, but the upshot was the increasing inability, even with their biological adaptations, to live under such strong solar radiation. Even though the entire species glowed, the radiation exposure illnesses persisted.  
“The only option open to them was to abandon their home planet and move further away. Sounds simple enough, but as we know, M class planets are a bit thin on the ground in this system and at the time they lacked sufficient ships to travel away from this system so their only viable choice was the planet we’re on now.  
“So they moved. En masse. But of course, this world is nothing but a large ball of mostly ice. They needed an energy source, but something very strange started to happen. The people began to dim and with this fading of the glow, so their life faded until, when the glow extinguished, the affected individuals died.  
“Their scientists were put to work immediately to try and find out what was happening...and quickly! What they found, Jean-Luc, was astonishing. Somehow gamma radiation had managed to not only infiltrate the bodily cells of these people, but integrate within the cells.”  
Jean-Luc tilted his head, his eyes narrowing. “But, Beverly, surely it was gamma radiation that caused the initial problems? Either that or high-energy protons. If gamma radiation infiltrated a living organism at the cellular level...”  
“I know! Death would be inevitable, but not in this instance. It’s incredible, but true. Now I want you to think about light.”  
“Yes.”  
“We have the visible spectrum, from infra-red to ultra-violet. Then we get to the invisible spectrum, starting with x-rays, down to gamma rays, high energy protons and so on. With me so far?”  
Curtailing his impatience, Jean-Luc merely nodded.  
“Okay. So what’s the product of exciting the electrons and photons within something like the particulate matter of gamma rays?”  
Shrugging, Jean-Luc said mildly, “Light...in the visible spectrum.”  
“Yes!” She seemed to be waiting for something and Jean-Luc was about to ask what when his penny suddenly dropped.  
“Not just light...radiance! Glowing!”  
Smiling triumphantly, Beverly nodded. “Yes!” she said eagerly. “And not just any kind of light, Jean-Luc, cold light!”  
Jean-Luc’s finger went to his lower lip automatically, his mind shifting gears. Knowing him as well as she did, Beverly allowed him the time to process the information and reach his own conclusions. She knew he’d got there when he snapped his fingers.  
“They can’t continue to fluoresce continuously! They have to be...charged.” he fell silent then blinked in surprise. “The manufactured star!”  
Grinning with pride and satisfaction, Beverly nodded. “Uh huh. Now, some more information. You know that because of the massive gravitational forces and enormous density of a star such as an average G2V like Earth’s, it takes about one million years for one second of light to travel from the star’s core to escape the outer corona and be perceived from Earth as emergent light.  
“Obviously these people can’t wait that long, so they created a tiny mini-star, based on the exact same process by which their own G2V star works, harnessed the power and developed a way to generate controlled bursts of lovely, cold gamma rays. The directed bursts are gathered in dishes and the resulting power is distributed, not only for the continuing health of the people, but to power their society. Their cities, their infrastructures, they’re all gamma ray powered.”  
Shaking his head in wonder, Jean-Luc whispered, “Incredible!”  
“There’s more, Jean-Luc...so much more. This symbiotic relationship between the living cells and the gamma radiation doesn’t end at death. The deceased are prepared in such a way as to be able to discharge the residual energy held within their cells.”  
“But doesn’t the death of the cells preclude any physical ability?” asked a confused Jean-Luc.  
“Normally, yes. But in this situation, the deceased’s body is injected with an isotopic substance which controls the release of the gamma radiation. When an energy burst is released from the artificial star, and the burst reaches the planet, it reacts with the isotopic substance to assist the cells in releasing the gamma radiation. It acts as a precursor so that the proximity of the energy burst in conjunction with the isotopic substance causes the controlled release. This can occur three or four times before the deceased’s body is finally...drained. But the wonderful thing about this is the dead contribute to their society by their death! Within this society, death is looked upon not as cessation of life, but a comfort in the knowledge that even in death; one continues to be of importance...a valued contributor to one’s people!”  
Jean-Luc considered all this, then asked quietly, “What about radiation decay? From what we know about all kinds of radiation, once emitted no matter how it was generated, there is an inevitable decay. How was this circumvented?”  
Beverly’s eyes shone with delight. “Once the gamma radiation integrates itself within the cells of the body, it becomes basically inert. Now I know that there has to be movement, activity of some sort of the electrons and photons within the nucleus of the radiation particles to create the visible light, but as to the potency of the radiation, as long as the people have access to regular...top-ups...then there is no decay. And, with the introduction of the isotopic substance after death, the gamma radiation is held not only in preparation for discharge, but to maintain potency despite the death of the host cells.”  
Pursing his lips, Jean-Luc tilted his head in thought. “Tell me about this isotopic substance.”  
Wincing slightly, Beverly shrugged. “That’s not so easy. You have to remember I’ve had to interpret all of this, giving a standard translation and some of the alien words and terms I’ve had to work out based on my knowledge of the science. So, isotopes. Okay, we know, at least in Earth terms, we have basically two types of isotopes. There are unstable isotopes, (which are invariably radioactive) which are known as primordial or postprimordial and stable isotopes and at least two thirds of naturally occurring isotopes on Earth are stable.  
“In this case, because the gamma radiation is derived from an artificial source, my guess is the isotopes are postprimordial and I think they’re expressed as nucleogenic nuclides, as they’ve come from a manufactured nuclear reaction. By converting the nuclides into something like a form of uranium or radium...or something similar, it can be introduced into the deceased to do the job of a precursor.”  
Jean-Luc looked into his wife’s eyes and although he could clearly see her enthusiasm and awe, there was a tiny, barely discernible shadow, one that gave him cause to subdue his own excitement. Beverly saw this and sighed, slightly irritated and annoyed.  
“You’re thinking it’s too good to be true.” She said defensively.  
“Am I?” said Jean-Luc softly. “Perhaps you could tell me why I’m thinking that way.”  
Beverly said nothing, simply breaking their visual connection and staring at their joined hands. Jean-Luc allowed a few moments of quiet before he began to softly speak.  
“You say these people use the energy bursts to not only charge their body’s cells, but power their cities, their lives, both literally and in general. Beverly, their ships glow. They possess weapons so powerful they can utterly destroy an entire Borg cube with one shot. They don’t just use the gamma radiation, do they? They have become completely interdependent with it, it’s in every facet of their society. I postulated to Will recently that these people may have the power of a star in their weapons and I was right, wasn’t I?”  
Before Beverly could answer, Jean-Luc continued. “But of course that’s nothing new, humankind have been able to do something very similar, although on a much smaller scale since the mid 20th century, but Beverly, those salvage ships? The ones who came across the remains of the battle with the Borg cube that the aliens intervened in? There were no residual traces of radiation. None! Yes, it was two years after the fact, but even so, a weapon of that much power has to leave some kind of trace, but it didn’t. This symbiotic relation you’ve told me of, it seems almost utopian, but you and I both know no such thing exists. What’s the flaw, Beverly, what’s the fly in the ointment? What’s spoiling utopia and scaring the hell out of you?”  
Beverly’s reply was whispered and Jean-Luc had to strain to hear it.  
“It’s nothing to do with the gamma radiation or their interdependence with it at least not scientifically.”  
“What then?”  
“The children.”  
“The children? Whose?”  
“The conscience’s.”  
Abruptly climbing to his feet, Jean-Luc fisted his hands at his sides and glared out into the silently shrieking wind, oblivious of the large particles of ice that smashed into the clear wall’s outer shell.  
“My brother’s children? You can’t help them?”  
Slowly getting to her feet, Beverly stood at Jean-Luc’s side, but where he kept his gaze focused outside; she kept her eyes trained in him.  
“No, it’s all right; I still think I can help, especially now that I have the complete picture.”  
Bracing himself, Jean-Luc asked quietly, “What is it then? What is it about the children?”  
Sighing deeply, Beverly bowed her head. “It’s a matter of ethics, Jean-Luc. The history of the conscience is ancient one, not as ancient as the rest of this species’ history but very, very old. It was discovered quite early by the people that the beings who successfully took their place as the conscience served more efficiently if all his needs were met. Over time, it was understood that these...needs...included having a life-partner and, in most chosen species, the wish, if the partnership was successful, to reproduce, which is of course exactly what your brother has done with his one.  
“Now the medical technology of this species was always going to make it possible for a successful production of offspring...dear God, Jean-Luc, the hybrids they’ve been able to produce is astonishing...but...”  
When she drifted into silence, Jean-Luc turned from the bleak vista and said softly, “Go on.”  
“They can’t ever reproduce, Jean-Luc.”  
It took a few seconds for the ramifications to become evident. Anger coloured his deep voice in his single, clipped word.  
“Why?”  
“Oh, come on! Do I have to spell it out?” said an exasperated Beverly, dreading the inevitable argument that was brewing.  
“Yes, Beverly, yes you do!” He snapped.  
“All right!” She said curtly. “If all the children of all the consciences that have been produced over millennia were permitted to interbreed with the native population, just how long do you think it would take before this species simply ceased to exist? Think about it, Jean-Luc! The symbiotic relationship between the gamma radiation and the cells would be wiped out! And who’s to say what, if anything would emerge in its place? This planet is barren! Everything these people have is derived through that artificial star, right down to their very lives. You mess with that and you very quickly annihilate the species. The law that prohibits the children of the conscience from reproducing isn’t cruel, Jean-Luc, it isn’t based on prejudice or even arrogance. It’s not even about species purity, not as a means of asserting superiority; it’s to maintain their very survival, their existence.”  
“But that doesn’t make it right, Beverly!” Jean-Luc said vehemently. “To deny those children the fundamental right to...”  
Cutting him off, Beverly raised her voice.  
“Look!” She then calmed herself. “Jean-Luc, think about this objectively. Let’s take humans for a moment. What if humankind was exposed to indiscriminate interbreeding with hybrids of all kinds over a long period of time? Eventually what had been uniquely human would no longer exist. Now I’m not saying that’s a bad thing per se, but don’t we, as humans have a fundamental right to stay...human? You talk with pride about your family line. That’s human, Jean-Luc, not only the pride itself but the very genetics involved. Yes, if humans became a melange species of mixed genetics, some trace of your Picard genes would survive, but would it still be what you would call Picard? It certainly wouldn’t be what you and I would recognise as human.  
“And what of other worlds, Jean-Luc? Take the Federation itself. It’s made up of many, many worlds, the people of which are unique to their worlds, each species special in its own way and willing to defend their right to stay that way...and we would help them to achieve just that. Can’t you see that these people are simply trying to preserve who and what they are?”  
“That, Beverly,” said Jean-Luc quietly, “Sounds very much like species purity and that is a form of discrimination.” He said stubbornly. “This species chose the concept of their conscience and did so knowing full well the consequences inherent in allowing any hybrid offspring to reproduce! This isn’t a matter of evolution or adaptation, but a deliberately manufactured situation and the resulting...dross...from this social experiment is being denied the right to their existence! What about them, Beverly? What about their rights? Having been permitted to exist what then? That’s it? One generation then no more just so the creators can maintain their species’ purity?”  
Splaying her fingers wide beside her head, Beverly bared her teeth. “All right! Yes, it’s discrimination, but Jean-Luc isn’t the preservation of one’s species just as much a right as anything else? Don’t the people of this world have the right to discriminate to save themselves? Compared with the total population, we’re not talking about huge numbers of discriminated against children. No one has indulged in wholesale slaughter or hideous sterilisation. And the children know. As soon as they are old enough to understand, they’re told.”  
“You agree with this?” Jean-Luc’s tone was dangerously low.  
“I didn’t at first; I was as outraged as you. But now I know the truth, what’s the alternative, Jean-Luc? And...every conscience and his..mate...knows well before they even consider reproducing. It’s a decision they make knowing their children will never be allowed to reproduce...or ever leave this complex.”  
His intense look compelled Beverly to keep going. “The people never see their conscience, not even an image of him or his one or their children. The family who nurture and rear him from his birth are removed when he takes his place as the conscience at age 18 and taken to a faraway place. His one is chosen for him and if a bond forms, then it is up to them whether or not to have children, but they do so knowing the consequences and part of the whole deal is that the one and the children can never leave the complex, other than to take walks out on the ice.”  
Letting his eyes drift back to the dark icescape, Jean-Luc’s voice was low and laced with sadness. “My inherent distaste for this entire system aside, the irony is exquisite, you know.”  
Frowning, Beverly asked quietly, “How do you mean?”  
He sighed and lowered his head. The bleakness outside too close to what he was feeling.  
“We, you and I...we can’t have children. I find an identical twin brother I never knew I had; only to find he has four children, but they’re ill...with an inherited disease, courtesy of our illustrious Picard lineage. But that’s not too bad, because you tell me that you can most probably cure them. So I begin to think, well, we might not be able to have children, but my family line will live on in the form of a new type of Picard. Not fully human, but given my profession and my brother’s position in his society, it seems appropriate. Given my objections...what hypocrisy on my part!” He sighed again. “And now you’re telling me we’re back to square one!”  
He shook his head, rubbed his brow and grimaced. “Dear God, listen to me. Still fixated on my damned family and conveniently ignoring everything you’ve just told me.” He looked up and said softly, “Forgive me, Beverly, I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t be, my love. It crossed my mind too. In fact your brother brought it up.”  
“Really? How?”  
Shrugging, Beverly pulled her lips to one side. “He stated the bloody obvious, Jean-Luc.”  
“That being?”  
“Well, I’ve had a successful pregnancy in the past and he’s managed to reproduce all right and he’s your identical twin, so...”  
“Why can’t we?”  
“Pretty much.”  
Jean-Luc frowned, his fingers once again finding themselves back to his lower lip. “So it must be me.”  
Patiently, Beverly said, “Jean-Luc we’ve run all the tests. You know that’s not right.”  
His eyes narrowed. “Then can you explain it?”  
Hurt and anger made her snap. “You know damned well I can’t!”  
Holding up a placating hand, Jean-Luc only managed to say, “Beverly, I’m sor...”  
The door opened and the conscience stepped into the room, silencing Jean-Luc mid-word.  
“I am sorry to interrupt, but my children need you, Beverly.”  
Swallowing her anger, Beverly dredged up a small smile for her husband and gave him an apologetic look. “I have to go.”  
Jean-Luc nodded and was turning back to the clear wall when his brother’s voice stopped him. “I think it time you met my children, Jean-Luc. They are after all related to you.”  
As the captain crossed the room he smiled. “Nephews and a niece, I believe.”  
The conscience frowned and Jean-Luc’s smile grew. He decided to try a different approach. “Neveux et nèice.”  
The man’s eyebrows rose. “Ah! Oui! Les enfants de mon frère.”  
Beverly had no trouble with that. She smiled. “The children of my brother.” She thought. “Yes, Jean-Luc, my love. Despite the circumstances, very appropriate.”

 

Taking time to spend with his daughter was slowly becoming a very sought after thing for Will. In the quiet of his quarters, Charlotte nestled in his arms; he was finding a kind of peace he’d assumed he’d never have again without Deanna in his life. Charlotte wasn’t a substitute for her mother, indeed at even only three months of age she was exhibiting the beginnings of her own unique personality and Will gained immense comfort from that, because he knew that he too had a part in the little girl’s makeup. On this occasion he was reclining on his sofa, Charlotte had been fed and burped and on a whim, Will had dressed her in infant sleeping attire from Betazed, sent by the little girl’s grandmother, the eccentric Lwaxana Troi. The baby was awake and lying on her back, her side tucked into Will’s chest. He ran his eyes over the luridly coloured, tufted, quilted, pom-pommed and fringed outfit and grinned, the absurdity making him shake his head. “Only Lwaxana could find something so tasteless in a society known for their grace and refined senses.” He muttered. In response to her father’s rumbled comment, Charlotte turned her head and waved her arms, her little hands fisted. Still with the light of amusement in his eyes, Will idly teased his index finger into her right fist and grinned delightedly when she obliged by gripping him tightly. Gently wagging his finger back and forth, Will watched as Charlotte tried to focus on the movement.  
“Your mother,” he said quietly to his daughter, “was very graceful, Charlotte. Not a lithe, sinuous grace like your Aunt Beverly, but a subdued, compact sort of grace and you know...” he smiled, ignoring the moisture that was gathering in his eyes. “It came from within as much as without. She had a wicked sense of humour too. I expect you’re going to get the better of me, just like she did.” He sighed, but the tender smile stayed in place. “She’d cut me off at the knees, you know. At first glance it was so easy to dismiss her. She was small, Charlotte, perfectly formed, but petite and so very beautiful, truly lovely and she gave no sign of either her immense inner strength or her resolute determination. Even your uncle, Jean-Luc, a man I know to be a very astute judge of character, didn’t realise just how much steel hid inside that gentle exterior.” Will’s rueful chuckle was quiet. “He learned soon enough though. We all did.”  
As he talked, Will noticed that not only was Charlotte now looking at his face, she had stilled completely as if absorbed, if not by his voice...Will’s eyebrows rose and his mouth fell open. He shifted slightly to better see his daughter’s face. “Are you sensing me?” He asked incredulously. “Can you do that...at your age?”  
Charlotte didn’t react; she simply continued to stare at her father’s face. Will, keeping his gaze locked on his child, said quietly, “Computer, access all known information about human/Betazoid hybrids and display at my terminal.”  
“Accessing.”  
Gathering Charlotte into his arms, Will got to his feet, crossed the room and settled at his desk. The information was already there. He used his fingertip to scroll down until he came to the correct genetic percentages. Will of course is fully human, Deanna was half human, half Betazoid, which made Charlotte three quarters human, one quarter Betazoid. As he read, his eyebrows rose and a smile appeared. Taking Charlotte in both large hands, he held her up at eye level and he laughed.  
“Well my little girl, it seems you are able to develop empathic abilities. Although,” he said conspiratorially, “if you develop it, it’s not supposed to exhibit itself until puberty.” He chuckled and brought the baby back to his chest where he cuddled her. “Still, trust your mother to give you such a strong dose that you’re even more unique then even I thought you were.”  
Placing a tender kiss on top of her soft, down covered head, Will said, his voice breaking, “She’d be so very proud, Charlotte...and so am I.”  
Will went back to the sofa and stretched out, Charlotte safely tucked into his arm. It wasn’t until he woke later that he realised he’d drifted off to sleep, the first time he’d done so in contentment since Deanna’s death. He rose stiffly and entered his bedroom, hesitating only for a second or two before ditching the thought of putting Charlotte in her crib. Laying her on the bed, he stripped off his uniform and then took the baby into the nursery and changed her nappy. Then, with her back in his arms, he slid into bed. Together, father and daughter once again found calm, untroubled sleep.

 

It was just on six hundred hours and Geordi was tired. He had intended to go off shift hours ago, but something about the formulae, if indeed that’s what they were was tugging at something in his mind. With one elbow propped on the console top and his chin held in his hand, his bent back was protesting, his muscles long ago letting him know they’d had enough. Ignoring his physical discomfort, he kept doggedly inputting instructions with the fingers of his free hand; idly wondering if it was possible he was really feeling the grittiness in his artificial eyes.  
Under Will’s instructions, he had done his best to isolate the formulae but because he had no idea how they’d got on board in the first place, he had no way to know how successful he’d been. But his CO wanted answers and it was his job, as chief engineer, to do his best to supply them.  
With the computer’s assistance, he’d begun to trace a thread of thought. He had nothing substantial at all on which to base this thread, just a gut feeling, but as the hours rolled past and he got no results, he was beginning to feel he’d been mistaken, but even so, he couldn’t shake the tug. He sighed and slowly straightened, his hands going to the small of his back and a soft groan emerging as he arched and kneaded the tightness out of the protesting muscles. He was about to instruct the computer to cease and save, when the soft feminine voice came from above.  
“Match found.”  
Gripping both sides of the console, Geordi bent forward, not even feeling the shot of pain in his back. His pupils dilating he whistled, then a shit-eating gin grew on his face. “Oh yeah...I’ve got you now!”  
Tapping his communicator he had to concentrate on keeping his voice under control. “LaForge to Riker.”  
Geordi’s grin changed from shit-eating to delight as he heard something in his CO’s voice that he’d not heard since Deanna’s death. Calm amiability.  
“Riker here, Geordi. Go ahead.”  
“Commander I think I know what’s going on and I also think I have a new set of coordinates for the computer.”  
“Well done, Geordi! Can you come up to the bridge? I’ll be there in about ten minutes; I’m just waiting for the sitter.”  
“Will do, sir. LaForge out.”  
Geordi could barely keep still as he waited for Will’s appearance. As the lift doors hissed open, the engineer was already walking towards the exiting personnel. Resisting the urge to take Will by the arm, instead he urged the big man to hurry to the engineering station at the rear of the bridge. Once both men were standing in front of the console screen, Geordi gestured with his hand, saying grandly, “Absorption rates!”  
Squinting his eyes, Will repeated what Geordi had said. “Absorption rates.”  
“Yes!” By Geordi’s tone, Will could tell he was supposed to understand what the man was talking about. Taking a stab, Will said tentatively, “The energy bursts?”  
“Yes!”  
Pointing at the lines of figures and symbols, the engineer said, “The mini-star discharges at a measurable rate and intensity. The resulting energy burst is directed at a specific place on the planet’s surface.”  
“We already know that, Geordi.” Will said patiently.  
“Yes, sir,” said Geordi, barely containing himself. “But what we didn’t know is that by the time the energy reaches the collection point it has almost doubled in size and intensity.”  
“Yes,” Will said, still not understanding. “The energy cloud. We know about that too.”  
“Uh huh, but take a look at this.”  
Will directed his gaze back to the screen and what he saw made him frown in confusion. “What the hell am I seeing?”  
“That...” pointed Geordi, “ is a multi discharge of energy...and the source of the cloud. And these...” Again he indicated the formulae, “are the absorption rates for the combined cloud.”  
“Absorption rates? How, Geordi, how is the energy absorbed?”  
Folding his arms across his chest, the dark man sighed. “Well obviously it’s done through the dish. My guess is that the energy isn’t absorbed all at once, but piecemeal. Once it’s been collected by the dish, then the energy is allocated by the rate of absorption. It makes sense actually. With that much raw power, even given their technology, I think would be pretty damn hard to handle it all in one go. So, it’s collected and absorbed at a given rate and distributed as needed.”  
“Right. So, what about these multi-discharges?”  
Shaking his head, Geordi grimaced. “Haven’t worked out that one yet, but I have instructed the computer to have a closer look at the next discharge from the mini-star.”  
“Okay.” said a more settled Will. “What about the other number sets...the ones that came with the formulae?”  
“Hmm, not sure about that either, but I suspect they have something to do with allocation.”  
“And cracking those formulae hasn’t put us in any danger?”  
Geordi’s voice carried a note of caution. “Not that I know of, sir, but I have no way to prove that one way or the other.”  
“Understood, Commander.” Will said formally. He then smiled. “And, Geordi? Well done.”  
Geordi smiled with satisfaction and jerked a thumb towards the lift doors.  
“If it’s okay with you, sir, I’d better get back to engineering.”  
“Permission granted, Commander.”  
“Thank you, sir.”  
Will turned his eyes to the front of the bridge and said quietly, “Activate forward viewscreen.”  
The indistinct image of the planet appeared and this time Will’s gaze wasn’t so hostile. “So, bit-by-bit, we’re uncovering your secrets.” He thought. Out loud he asked, “Have we hailed the planet since Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher went down to the surface?”  
The officer at tactical answered quickly and with due respect, making Will smile inwardly.  
“No, sir.”  
“Then do so now.”  
Several seconds passed before the officer said quietly, “No response, Commander.”  
Will stood still, his gaze fixed on the planet, his mind turning things over and over. After a few moments he turned abruptly and took his seat in the command chair.  
“Cease hailing, Lieutenant, I wasn’t actually expecting them to answer.”  
“Aye, sir.”  
As Will checked the readouts on the armrests of his chair he took note of the well-oiled efficiency going on around him and the undertone of pride and acknowledgement of the crews’ actions.  
“Well, Captain, we’re getting there. I hope you like what you find when you come home.” He thought. Then his eyes narrowed as he thought glumly, “If you come home.”

 

By the vividness of the light up ahead, both Jean-Luc and Beverly knew alien beings awaited them. Three individuals stood patiently, each offering a small bow as the conscience, having checked his screen, introduced each by title.  
One was his adviser and the other two were healers. Jean-Luc’s brother turned to his staff and said quietly, “We wish to have some private time with my children. Once we are finished, Doctor Crusher may enter with the healers.” Turning to his adviser, the conscience said respectfully, “Trusted one, I place my brother’s one under your keeping. See to it she has everything she needs.”  
Not waiting for any acknowledgement or expecting any, the conscience waited until Jean-Luc followed his lead by removing his shoes. Then, on stockinged feet the two men entered the suite of rooms alone.  
On seeing their father the children smiled and gathered silently around him, ignoring Jean-Luc. At first the captain thought that most odd, then he realised they were all trying to read the text on the sleeve screen. Peeking over two sets of shoulders, Jean-Luc read,  
“My dear ones, the man accompanying me is my brother...my identical human twin brother.”  
They turned as one, their remarkable eyes studying Jean-Luc in minute detail. As he watched, Jean-Luc noticed their fingers twitching ineffectively as they attempted to communicate by gesture. The female lifted both her hands and touched Jean-Luc’s face with such breathtaking delicacy he almost gasped at the implied intimacy. His eyes met those of his brother’s and he knew. The children wanted to know him. Certain to make no sound whatsoever, Jean-Luc slowly seated himself on the floor and held his arms wide. It wasn’t an invitation for an embrace, but permission for the children to do whatever it was they needed to do, not only to familiarise themselves with this being who so closely resembled their father, but to establish themselves with him, to mark him as theirs, much like many species took possession of related kin.  
In the preternatural silence each child in turn imprinted Jean-Luc into their psyche. Touch, smell even taste were used and at its end, Jean-Luc was certain he’d never before experienced anything so personal or profound that wasn’t sexual. It was a type of intimacy he never knew existed.  
At a subtle gesture from his brother, Jean-Luc rose to his feet and smiled at the children, now seeing in their eyes a connection that had not existed before. They left and a very introspective Jean-Luc smiled distractedly as Beverly remarked, “They’re astonishing, aren’t they.”  
“Yes,” he replied, trying and failing to find words adequate to describe his experience. As Beverly was ushered inside, the conscience gently took Jean-Luc’s elbow and encouraged him a short distance down the corridor. At an opening door, the two went inside and sat together on a sofa-like piece of furniture. The windows in this room were much smaller and somehow their lack of size only seemed to accentuate the bleakness of the truncated view of outside.  
Thoughts were streaming through Jean-Luc’s head but his brother seemed to be aware of this and waited patiently while Jean-Luc sorted through his tumult. Eventually the captain leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and bowing his head.  
“I thought I had it all worked out. I thought it was cut-and-dried.” He sighed and seemed disgusted with himself. “I was so damned sure!” Turning his head, he regarded his twin. “But it’s not, is it. Nowhere near it.”  
He rose abruptly and began to stalk around the room, watched implacably by his silent brother.  
“All right, let’s see if I can work this out. I have the Prime Directive to contend with. That compels me to protect even rescue you from this...” he waved his hand to encompass everything around him. “because you were conceived on Earth and are therefore a Federation citizen and come under my purview as a Starfleet captain. Fine. But not fine, because not only do you not wish to be rescued, there’s no need, you’re not here under any duress, you’re here by your own choice. Again, fine...but not so. Your people have been...sourcing...the conscience for millennia, in fact long before the existence of the Federation and a concerted effort has been made to eliminate any stress on the donor parent, so I have to ask myself, is it wrong? Considering the chosen individual is never lied to, that he knows from his earliest memories that he’s been chosen to fulfil a particular task...and a vitally important one at that...thus providing him with satisfaction, value and an integral position within his society, haven’t his people done their best for him?”  
Coming to the small windows, Jean-Luc leaned his backside against them and folded his arms across his chest. “Fine. Yet not, because it seems the system has a basic and fundamental flaw. These chosen individuals, in an effort to maintain psychological stability and the more primal need to procreate, have been permitted to reproduce. No problem there, or is there? Because of the unique interdependence between the native species and the artificial star, no hybrid offspring can be allowed to breed, at least not with the indigenous population, to do so would be to wipe out the parent species and, as it’s so recently been pointed out to me, doesn’t every species have a right to protect itself from annihilation? Even when the danger itself has come about by their own hands?”  
Jean-Luc speared his brother with an intensely measuring look and clenched his jaw, trying to keep his rising anger at bay. “How could you do it? How could you and your one decide to reproduce when you knew any children you had would be forbidden to do the same?”  
Returning his gaze with equanimity, the conscience said quietly, “What is the accusation here, Jean-Luc? Are you speaking as the conflicted Starfleet captain, whose sworn duty is to uphold his oath? Or is it Jean-Luc Picard, explorer, a man known for his non-judgement of alien cultures? Or is it something much, much more personal? Am I hearing an outraged and jealous Jean-Luc Picard, who, through seemingly no fault of his own, cannot reproduce and until recently, believed himself to be the last of his line and cannot or will not accept his newly found relatives are also unable to carry on his lineage?” Rising to his feet, the conscience went to his brother and invaded his personal space. “Oh!” he snapped his fingers. “Let’s not forget self-righteous Jean-Luc! The one who does after all, possess a highly prejudiced view, willing to put the blame for the situation as you call it, squarely upon those who developed the process by which we find ourselves in conflict over, conveniently ignoring the fact that no one, not the conscience, his one or their children went into this with their eyes closed!”  
Stepping closer still, the conscience fisted his hands in Jean-Luc’s tunic. “You have already admitted your hypocrisy and arrogance. Now I think it time you owned up to ignorance as well.”  
Two sets of identical eyes bored into each other until Jean-Luc said with deadly quiet, “Take your hands off me.”  
At first nothing happened, then the conscience let Jean-Luc’s top go, but he didn’t pull back. Instead he moved so close the tips of their noses touched. Equally quietly he said, “Don’t you ever dare to accuse me of not caring for or about my children, brother. You and your precious Federation are so puny, so infantile I doubt you have the true capacity to understand the full complexity of what and who my people are. If any species is worth preserving, Jean-Luc, it is my people, not yours.”  
Jean-Luc assumed his brother would immediately leave the room, perhaps even detaining him again, but that wasn’t the case. The man went back to the sofa and sat heavily, as if the weight of Atlas was upon his shoulders. Sensing the confrontation was not yet over, Jean-Luc joined him, sitting apart with his eyes directed at his clasped hands.  
“Your anger is justified, just as your accusations of my hypocrisy, arrogance and ignorance are, but there’s more, isn’t there.”  
“Yes.” Sighed the conscience, his right hand hefting his braid.  
“Tell me.” Jean-Luc said those words with as much calm courage as he could muster and yet he was as frightened as he’d ever been at any time in his life. Something was about to be said, something not only personally devastating, but was at the heart of his greatest but as yet unrecognised fear.  
Eyes filled with sorrow and compassion fell on Jean-Luc which only increased his terror. Somehow hearing a voice identical to his own, instead of comforting him, only seemed to isolate him.  
“You speak of hybrids, Jean-Luc. Do you know the true meaning of the word?”  
Concentrating fiercely on just answering the question, Jean-Luc said softy, “A mixture...a blending of two or more genetic samples to create a new individual.”  
Nodding thoughtfully, the conscience said gently, “Have you ever thought of the word as used to express circuitry?”  
“Circuitry? No.”  
“Ah. Let me put it this way then. Consider organic and inorganic hybridism. What one term could you find to correctly describe such a phenomena?”  
Jean-Luc frowned deeply, unable to shake the feeling of impending doom. When the answer came to him his stomach heaved and he pitched forward out of his seat and onto his knees. Gasping and clutching at his spasming stomach, Jean-Luc moaned, “Borg!”  
A strong arm went across Jean-Luc’s shoulders and gripped him. “Yes.” said the soft voice. “Borg. We knew as soon as you set foot on this planet that you are a hybrid, Jean-Luc. A Borg/human hybrid. So you see, your protestations on behalf of my children carry little weight. Your own genetics have made it impossible for you to reproduce...in defence of your own species. To protect it from the unspeakable reality that is the Borg.”  
The conscience rose slowly, assisting Jean-Luc first to his feet, then to regain his seat. “Welcome to the club, Jean-Luc, membership is quite exclusive.”

 

Beverly was actually grinning as she exited the room. One of the healers had given her the modified tricorder and she kept glancing at it, as if just by reassuring herself of its presence she could reaffirm her feeling of satisfaction.  
On not seeing her husband or his brother outside, she wasn’t surprised when the being she knew to be the adviser led her gently down the corridor to a closed door. It opened obediently and she strode in, the triumphant grin on her face making her eyes dance. The adviser hung back and the conscience, who she belatedly realised had been physically supporting her husband, separated himself and stood, moving to the small windows. Yet faced with these seeming incongruities and unconnected events, Beverly still didn’t sense the underlying tension and devastation that so heavily pervaded the room. She blithely stepped forward, saying happily, “I think I can do it, Jean-Luc! It’ll take some tweaking and a bit of computerised skulduggery, but I’m well on the way to...”  
Finally her brain recognised what her eyes had been seeing. Jean-Luc, hunched and shaking, his mouth open as his breath came in gasps and worst of all, the tears that streamed down his haggard face.  
Her feet carried her to him and in one fluid motion; one arm went around him in a protective embrace as her free hand deployed her tricorder. She never saw the subtle gesture that dismissed the adviser, leaving just the three of them in the room.  
Studying the readout on the tricorder screen, Beverly shook her head. “Elevated respiration, heart rate, cortisol and adrenaline off the scale...classic high-level stress and psychological trauma!” She speared the conscience with a hot glare. “What’s happened here?”  
Jean-Luc’s brother shrugged, offering a deep, sad sigh. “A crisis of faith? Of identity? Either...or...?”  
Refocusing on her husband, Beverly cupped his chin and lifted it. “Jean-Luc, what’s happened?”  
His eyes were haunted to such an extent that Beverly gasped. His one broken word was as devastating to her as it was for him.  
“Borg.”  
Enfolding him completely within her embrace, Beverly hissed at the conscience, “What have you done?”  
Pushing away from the wall, the man came to share the sofa. That his burden was huge was obvious. “Jean-Luc and I were having a discussion and he was taking great pains to describe his dilemma, his outrage at the situation as he saw it, particularly the part where my people, to preserve their very existence, prevent the children of the conscience from reproducing. You see, Beverly, he finds it very hard to reconcile himself to the knowledge that this necessity has come about only because of my people’s reliance on the conscience. He sees it as an inequitable solution to a self inflicted problem and thus, manifestly unfair.”  
Rubbing his brow, the conscience couldn’t keep the weariness and sorrow out of his voice.  
“You see, Beverly, he won’t...or can’t...agree that my people are entitled to take whatever means available to them to maintain their existence.”  
Glancing between her bereft husband who was clinging to her desperately and his brother who seemed to be dispassionately discussing the matter as if it were the weather; Beverly shook her head, barking impatiently, “What about the Borg? What do they have to do with anything?”  
“Yes...” sighed the conscience. “The Borg. That came up because of hybridism, Beverly. You see, for very similar reasons to my people’s refusal to allow my children to reproduce, your husband’s body has used its own hybridism to protect his species by preventing him from successfully breeding.”  
Now clearly confused, Beverly gaped. “What? What hybridism? What the hell are you talking about?”  
Easing back slightly from Jean-Luc, she took his shoulders and said gently, “Jean-Luc...do you know what he’s talking about?”  
Slowly shaking his head, Jean-Luc’s lower lip trembled. “No,” he whispered. “All I know is that I’m a Borg/human hybrid.”  
Sending a fierce glare at the conscience, Beverly snapped, “I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but you have absolutely no right to...”  
Holding up a hand to gain her silence, the conscience then held out his hand, obviously wanting Beverly’s tricorder. She handed it over reluctantly.  
He adjusted a few controls and returned it. Beverly gave it a suspicious glance then further attention as more and more information began to appear. While she read she half-listened.  
“We’ve known from the moment Jean-Luc set foot on this world that he was a hybrid.” The conscience said flatly.  
Squinting, Beverly shook her head. “I don’t understand. What am I seeing here?”  
The snort was soft and sad. “That, doctor, is nanotechnology on a scale no Federation scientist has ever seen or should have seen for centuries yet. It exists at the sub-atomic level, at a level of infiltration beyond the cellular. You were aware of the...debris...left by the Borg assimilation Jean-Luc endured, but it was always thought to be either of no consequences or too difficult to remove, but as you can clearly see, what you knew about was so grossly obvious as to be almost prehistoric in function. Existing much, much deeper was the latent debris, deliberately dormant nanites, which had never deactivated. They sit there, Doctor, just waiting until the signal is given to reanimate. But the Borg are not the super-beings they think they are and sometimes they miss the patently obvious. In this case, the human body’s capacity to defend itself...not as an individual, but as a species, because, Doctor, this kind of infiltration can be passed on. It’s now in his genes.”  
Beverly’s mind was racing to keep up. Her sudden conclusion made her softly sob. “The unsuccessful conceptions. It’s his sperm, isn’t it. The nanites, they’re in his sperm.”  
Nodding sadly, the conscience sighed. “Yes.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ironic, isn’t it? He railed against my people for the seeming cruelty of forbidding hybrids to breed with them in an effort to merely survive, while his own body is doing the exact same thing for precisely the same reason.”  
“He’s not a hypocrite...” Beverly said with quiet defiance. “He didn’t know...none of us did.”  
The twin smiled gently. “I know, nor is he arrogant or ignorant, just ill-informed.”  
The man stood and went to step past, but Beverly caught his sleeve. Looking up, she couldn’t stop two tears from sliding down her face. “Can you help him?” She whispered.  
Sighing, the conscience frowned. “I do not know.”  
“But surely, with your level of medical technology...”  
“Yes, we possess the means, Doctor, but should we?”  
He sat beside Beverly and laid a comforting hand on his brother’s trembling shoulder. “You were summoned to perform a task and from what I’ve learned, it seems you are on the brink of success. Already too much has happened that was never intended. Should I compound all that with even more interference? Beverly...” he shook his head and rose to his feet. “This is so deeply disturbing. It is as if the conscience needs a damned conscience!”  
He strode from the room leaving Beverly to console her shattered husband. She barely registered the entrance of the adviser. He stood in front of the couple impassively, waiting until his presence was noted.  
Jean-Luc had begun to regain control of himself and straightened, offering a watery smile as he gently disengaged their hands. Beverly glanced up at the adviser to see him offering a small device. She took it and scowled as text appeared.  
“No doubt you have many questions.”  
“No doubt.” Sighed Beverly, but it was Jean-Luc who asked, “Your people and the Borg. How long? When was the first time?”  
“Long ago, Captain, at a time when we still lived on our original world.”  
Jean-Luc rose on unsteady legs and moved to the windows, staring out, but seeing nothing. “They came.” He said quietly.  
“Yes, in great numbers.”  
“You successfully defended yourselves.”  
“Yes but that only made the Borg more determined to assimilate our obviously superior technology. Wave after wave of ships came and each was destroyed before they even got close to our home world. Eventually an impasse developed. We refused to resort to genocide and they refused to give up on their desire to assimilate us. Three months passed before they embarked on a new strategy.”  
“Nanotechnology.” Just saying the word made Jean-Luc wish he could wash his mouth out.  
“Yes. As the conscience explained, the level of nanotechnology available to the Borg was very impressive and they decided to try and effect an outcome through subtlety rather than their usual tried-and-true method of brute force. They sent, using a subspace carrier wave, pre-programmed nanites whose express purpose was to enter our genetic makeup at the subatomic level where they would lie dormant until such time as the Borg were ready to activate them. When that time came, what and who we had been would be absorbed into the collective.”  
Beverly had joined her husband at the windows, but knew instinctively to give him some distance. Yet still, she was intensely curious. “So what happened?”  
“We quickly discovered what they had intended and stopped it, but we were left with the dilemma of what to do. The Borg are, as you well know; ultimately single minded both figuratively and literally. Once they become aware of a species whose technology they want, they are remorseless and relentless in their pursuit of that goal and it matters not how long it takes to acquire it. They may withdraw for centuries, but they never forget. Sooner or later they will return.”  
His hands hanging limply by his sides, Jean-Luc turned his head, a slight frown on his face. “But you must be aware of what has happened to the Borg?”  
“Yes. In being reabsorbed by their creators, the Caeliar, they have found peace and no longer pose any threat.”  
“So?” Asked Jean-Luc curtly. “Why am I still considered a threat? And for that matter, what good would me as one individual, or any of my progeny be to the Borg? Even if they’d not been redeemed by the Caeliar I can’t see how this...infection I and thus any progeny of mine had, had I been successful in reproducing, could be of any consequence to them.”  
“In creating Locutus of Borg, the Borg deviated from all known behaviours. To make one individual not only a liaison but a representative of a collection of worlds is pointless to the Borg. They do not negotiate, they take, they assimilate. We puzzled over this phenomenon for many months but it was not until we accessed our archives that we found the answer. Locutus of Borg was a ruse, Captain, something created to shift the focus while the real agenda was carried out.”  
His fingers momentarily still, the adviser motioned to the tricorder. To Beverly he said, “Using the parameters now inputted in that device, if you scan every survivor, each and every individual rescued from the Borg you will find within their bodies the nanites. It matters not that the Borg are no longer a threat, what they did at the time was to set the stage as it were and by putting in place the means to assimilate the Federation, they furthered their long held desire for our technology.”  
Jean-Luc’s face clouded with confusion and anger. “But how? So much time has passed, how does assimilating the Federation have anything even remotely to do with you and your people?”  
When no text appeared, Beverly turned to her husband and said softly, “Because they knew, Jean-Luc. They knew about your connection to the conscience.”  
Turning his focus back to the adviser, Jean-Luc asked, “Is this true?”  
“Yes.”  
“So...what was it they were trying to achieve? Some kind of genetic blending?”  
“That we cannot be certain of, for as the conscience has told you, the Borg, though super efficient and single minded, can, on occasion be blinded by their own perception of superiority and simply overlook things that would seem to be obvious.”  
“Like the human body’s ability to defend itself.” Said Beverly sadly. “My God, what they’ve set in motion...can it be stopped?”  
“We are not at all sure it needs to be. With the Borg themselves once again part of their creators’ kind, anything they have put in place is actually redundant. They pose no more threat. I do feel, however, that I should point out that although assimilating you, Captain, could be seen as a purely strategic ploy given your extensive knowledge of Starfleet, the Federation council and any likely defences they could muster, once they saw the propensity for a greater attack, one that would encompass so much more than just the assimilation of the Federation, then what they did can be seen in a completely different light. Just as we’ve long known about the Borg, they have long known about us, including our decision to have an outsider to act as our conscience, but it was not until they made an overtly aggressive move against us and discovered their inability to affect us in any way, that they decided to bide their time. Discovering the link between the individual they had chosen to act as interlocutor and our conscience must have seemed very serendipitous indeed. That they were so well placed to take advantage of it goes without saying.”  
Dragging his eyes from the screen, Jean-Luc shook his head. “All right, as far-fetched as all this seems, what can you tell me about this infiltration of my body? Why can’t we achieve a successful conception?”  
“The nanites are self-replicating, they have to be. Given the Borg put no timeframe on their plans it stands to reason that over time, the amount of nanites within the body would decrease with each generation unless they replenished themselves. So, using the body’s own biological building blocks, they kept a certain sustainable level within the atomic structure of the body.”  
“Okay, we get that, but why did the zygotes fail?” asked a frustrated Beverly, all the past months of failure and depression bubbling up to the surface.  
“I take it the cell division ceased at the sixth division?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then that clearly shows the inherent flaw in the Borg’s plans. It was not the cell division on its own that caused the failure, Doctor; it was the inability of the nanites to compensate. The Borg did not take into account a zygote comprises genetic input from at least two individuals. The nanites were programmed to replicate based on the biology of the host. Not only were they unable to adapt to your genetic input, Doctor, but they had no way to assimilate the new, unique being that was under the process of development.”  
“So they shut down.” sighed Beverly.  
“No, Doctor, they did more than simply shut down, they self-terminated. To the Borg there are only two states of being. Functioning or non-functioning. As soon as the nanites were unable to assimilate or adapt they were of no further use. They became redundant. Even a dormant state was useless as they had no biological blueprint of the new being on which to base themselves.”  
Folding his arms across his chest, Jean-Luc turned and stared out into the dimness. His voice was soft, but there was a definite trace of anger when he said, “Don’t postulate, don’t philosophise, just give me an honest answer. Can you rid me of my...infestation? Can you give me back my humanity?”  
With their eyes glued to the screen, the silence of the room became oppressive. When no text appeared, Jean-Luc barked, “Well?”  
The light blue words slowly tracked across the screen.  
“I am not sure how to answer your question, Captain. It requires so much more than a simple yes or no.”  
Running her fingers through her hair, Beverly said in exasperation, “But you have the technology!”  
“Yes we do.”  
“Then why? Why do you hesitate? Can’t you see that what’s happened here is through no fault of Captain Picard? He is an innocent victim and you have the ability to redress a terrible wrong that has been done to him!”  
“And possibly thousands of others, Doctor, spread across the Federation, many from worlds who don’t even know we exist! This is about so much more than one man, Doctor. You know we wish our privacy, that we do not want to interact with others, but if we consent to help Captain Picard, are we not duty bound to help all those in a similar situation? And they too are just as innocent, Doctor.”  
“Yes!” snapped Beverly. “Because you had the chance to rid everyone of the fucking Borg centuries ago and you didn’t! The blame for this can be put squarely at your damned feet!”  
“Beverly...” Jean-Luc’s voice was soft. The red head scowled and folded her arms defensively across her chest.  
“It all comes back to the same thing, doesn’t it?” said Jean-Luc wearily. “Self-preservation. I want to preserve my humanity; you want to preserve your way of life. Is there no middle ground?”  
“Now that you are well on the way to curing the conscience’s children, your time here is drawing to a close. Somehow, once you leave us, we have to find a way to distance ourselves from your superiors, those who would wish to open a dialogue between our peoples. This cannot happen. Not only must we protect our very existence, but, as you pointed out, Captain, our way of life. I do not know how this will occur, all I do know is that it must, but as was always the case, how that is done is up to the conscience to decide. In the interim, stay here while Doctor Crusher works and spend time with your brother. Our people have always felt time spent with family is precious.”  
The adviser left the room and in the lower light level, Jean-Luc sat and scrubbed his face with his hands. After an uncomfortable silence he said softly, “You can’t blame them, Beverly, not without painting me with the same brush. I had a chance to rid us of the Borg too, remember, and I was made to see how wrong that decision was.”  
Turning her head, Beverly studied her husband. “Do you regret your decision, Jean-Luc?”  
He summoned a smile. “You know I don’t, Beverly. Doing what we did with Hugh was the right thing...the moral thing to do. But by the same token, I do feel your frustration. It never ceases to amaze me how some things can appear, on the surface at least, to be so simple and yet be so damned convoluted.”  
More silence followed but it wasn’t so tense. Holding out his hand, Jean-Luc silently asked for the tricorder. He sat for a while, staring coldly at the microscopic nanites, tiny machines he knew were at that very moment inhabiting the very atoms of his body.  
Answering the visceral need to extract some kind of revenge for what had been done to him, and truth-be-told, attempting to thwart his long time nemesis, even though they no longer posed any sort of threat, Jean-Luc said idly, “Beverly, my brother told us that our medical community has never seen anything like this.” He held up the tricorder. “But now we know what to look for, is it possible we could develop a way to rid the body of the nanites ourselves?”  
Shrugging, Beverly pulled her hair back off her shoulders. “Well, I guess it’s possible, I mean necessity is the mother of invention and if history’s shown us anything it’s that technology tends to make quantum leaps forward when needed, but that...” She pointed with her chin. “Jean-Luc we weren’t supposed to come to that level of technology for a very long time yet. It would be like a cave man blundering about in the dark with nothing but a flaming stick inside a nuclear reactor. God knows what mischief he could get into. And that’s not accounting for the more...opportunistic scientists who might like to dabble in things they don’t actually understand.” She sighed, glaring at the screen as it reflected its light on Jean-Luc’s face. “The propensity for disaster, the sheer scope of catastrophe that represents...”  
“Yes,” Sighed Jean-Luc, “but also the benefits, Beverly. I don’t have to remind you that for every bad intention this may represent; so it also represents the almost limitless capacity to do good with it. The adviser described the Borg as being redeemed by the Caeliar, maybe our medical community can redeem those of us who’ve been blighted?”  
“Maybe.”  
Jean-Luc returned the tricorder to Beverly and smiled. “Tell me about the children.”  
“Gladly.”

 

Geordi’s low whistle caused the small gathering of his staff to train their eyes on the monitor.  
“Oh, wow, would you look at that!” The dark man lifted his head, saying distractedly, “Computer, tell me you got all that?”  
“Please specify.”  
Baring his teeth, Geordi growled softly. “Don’t go all coy on me now; just verify you recorded the multi-discharge and that you have specific coordinates.”  
“I have. The duration of the recording is five-point-three seconds and the coordinates are...”  
“Okay! Reroute the recording and the coordinates to the science station on the bridge.”  
He was at the lift doors before he remembered his stunned staff. Just as the lift car arrived he called out, “Analyse! I want every nanosecond pulled apart, dissected and reassembled. Get your heads together with the computer...I want answers!”  
The chorus of “Yes, sir!” was lost as the lift doors closed. With the car ascending towards the bridge, Geordi tapped his comm. badge.  
“LaForge to Riker.”  
“Riker here, Mr. LaForge.”  
“Commander, when this is over, you owe me a lobster dinner.”  
Geordi’s face split into a grin on hearing the excited amusement in his CO’s voice. “You’re such a damned tease, LaForge! What’ve you got?”  
“Oh, nothing much, just a five seconds recording of the multi-discharge and a set of specific coordinates.”  
The lift arrived on the bridge and the doors opened to show Will, his arms spread wide. “With lobster you get a kiss!”  
Chuckling, the two men went to the science station where they watched the astonishing event.  
“Jesus!” said Will reverently. “So what is it exactly?”  
Geordi’s reply was so soft; Will had to strain to hear it. “It’s organic, Commander.”  
That made all traces of amusement and excitement vanish from Will’s face to be replaced by a dark frown. “Organic? How?”  
Sighing, the lieutenant commander ran a hand over his head. “I don’t know, sir. My first guess was bioluminescence, but there’s just no way a naturally occurring biochemical reaction like that could possibly generate the kinds of output we’re seeing.”  
“So, what then?”  
“Beats me.”  
Running his fingers through his beard, Will muttered almost to himself, “The computer?”  
“Working on it, sir.”  
With a jerk of his head, Will invited Geordi to join him in the ready room. Once inside, the big man began to prowl the confines of Jean-Luc’s office, using his hands to give form to his words.  
“So we get a multi-discharge. I take it the cloud formed?”  
“Yes.”  
“And it met with the main discharge from the mini-star to be absorbed by the dish.”  
“Uh huh.”  
“Have you compared this multi-discharge with the previous one?”  
“That’s being done as we speak, but I have to warn you, sir, we didn’t get that good a look the first time, so any comparison isn’t going to be all that clear-cut.”  
“Granted, but it’s got to be better than nothing.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Okay, Geordi, keep on it, but get some rest will you? I happen to know you’ve worked three consecutive shifts. You’ve got competent staff and presumably the computer’s on your side, you don’t have to do it all yourself.”  
Offering a rueful smile and only just stifling a yawn, Geordi nodded. “Will do, Commander. Thank you, sir.”  
Both men had just exited the ready room when the computer’s soft feminine voice came from overhead. “Analysis complete.”  
The pronouncement coincided with an excited call from engineering. “Banks to LaForge!”  
“LaForge here, go ahead.”  
“Sir, I’m sending up the analysis. I don’t think you’re going to believe what you’re about to see.”  
Rather than question the man, Will and Geordi returned to the aft science station. As the engineer brought up the relevant information on the monitor he said, “Computer, commentary.”  
“On making an exhaustive comparison between previous and latest recordings of the multi-discharges and extrapolating the data, it has become evident that there has been a five percent decrease in available energy sources at the given coordinates.”  
“Explain!” barked Will.  
“Unable to comply. Insufficient data.”  
Geordi chewed the inside of his mouth. “Computer, have you identified the source of the multi-discharges? Are you still certain the energy is the same as that coming from the manufactured star?”  
“The energy is identical, however some of the sources from the multi-discharges have decreased in strength and there has been an overall drop of five percent in total energy output.”  
“And it’s still likely the energy itself is organic in nature as opposed to something like controlled nuclear fusion?”  
“Yes.”  
Will scratched his brow so hard he left red marks. “Wait a minute, Geordi...let me get this straight. The computer’s saying both energy sources are identical...yes?”  
“Uh huh.”  
“But it just told us the energy is not from controlled nuclear fusion, but is organic in nature.”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Well what’s in the anomaly then? Didn’t we determine at the very beginning it was a manufactured tiny G2V star? Built, controlled and directed?”  
“So we thought.”  
“But not now?”  
“No, sir. If the computer’s right, whatever is in that anomaly is also on the surface and it’s organic...and, Commander? It’s way powerful!”  
“Jesus!”  
“Yes, sir. Jesus.”  
Will’s stunned look gave way to a very familiar expression. Determination. Tapping his comm. badge, he called, “Transporter room three, this is the bridge. I’m sending you some coordinates. I want you to break through whatever the aliens have been using to hide behind and beam up whatever you can get a lock on.”  
“Aye, Commander.”  
Geordi scowled. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, sir?”  
Will shrugged. “I don’t know, LaForge, but I’m tired of playing Mr. Nice Guy. It’s time we gave a little shove.”  
“But with the captain and Beverly down on the surface...”  
“I know, but we’ve just about reached the end of our rope. One way or another, I want answers. I want to be able to look the captain in the eye and tell him what the hell’s going on. This little worm has turned and you know what? It’s got fucking teeth!”  
“Fair enough, Commander, it’s your call. If it’s all right with you, I’ll be down in engineering. No doubt the transporter room is going to need help.”  
With a grim smile, Will said quietly, “I have it on good authority that desks make good beds.”  
Offering a wry shake of his head, Geordi waved the comment aside. “I’ll get all the sleep I need once we’re on our way home, sir.”  
Nodding, Will’s smile was warm. “Thanks, Geordi.”  
“No problem, sir.”  
Directing his gaze at the planet, Will’s eyes glittered. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I intend to find out.”

 

 

Once again sitting on the floor, this time with their backs against a blank wall, just underneath the small windows, Jean-Luc listened with growing fascination as Beverly continued explaining what she’d found out.  
“...so you see their brains actually have two receptors from the divided auditory nerve. One I’m certain works in a conventional way, interpreting sounds carried through the structures of their inner ear and converted into an electric signal which the brain sorts out, but the other receptor is discrete, meaning that its function isn’t quite so clear-cut. When I was still on the ship and I first saw this division of the nerve and the two separate receptor areas, our computer theorised the patients may hear in two very distinct ways. Now that could mean each receptor interpreting the sounds differently, or the sounds themselves are perceived differently.”  
“How?”  
“Well, it could be that their main receptor interprets sounds just like ours, that is they hear just like you and I do, but the other receptor may pick up subsonic sound or...hear colours.”  
Turning his head, Jean-Luc’s frown was a deep one. “Hear colours?”  
“Uh huh. It’s called synaesthesia. People who experience it describe hearing colour and tasting sound. It was extensively documented by a scientist called Richard Cytowic in the 1980s and the reason I suspect this ability has manifested itself in the children is because it usually requires (in a human brain) a second sensory input or cognitive pathway and that is exactly what I think the discrete receptor is.”  
Clearly impressed, Jean-Luc said breathlessly, “How astonishing! Imagine, Beverly...imagine what that must be like.”  
“Oh, I know, it’s remarkable, isn’t it? But when you take into account their present difficulties, what may seem like a blessing to you and me is a curse to them. It doesn’t matter how the sound is perceived, Jean-Luc...if they hear it, it causes agony.”  
“So what can you do?”  
By her smile, Jean-Luc knew she was both happy and confident. “I think, with a bit of sleight-of-hand and the assistance of one of their computers, I should be able to either temporarily turn off the cognitive pathway or redirect the feed or both.”  
“Why temporarily? Why not permanently?”  
“Because I don’t think that’s necessary. Jean-Luc, these children are unique in so many ways, I am loath to make any permanent changes if I don’t have to. I still suspect, with a little help, this condition will eventually resolve itself. By turning off the cognitive pathways and redirecting the feed I should be able to buy them the time they need to recover on their own. Besides, if you possessed such a remarkable and profoundly unique ability like synaesthesia would you want to lose it? How would you feel if, having had the ability all your life, you suddenly had it taken away from you?”  
“I’d be devastated.” Jean-Luc whispered.  
“Me too. But, if I’m right and the Gods smile on me, then I don’t see why my idea won’t work.”  
Drawing his legs up, Jean-Luc rested his forearms on his knees and allowed his hands to dangle. Beverly noticed his gaze, although directed at his hands, was distant. She waited, knowing he would voice his thoughts when he was ready. The wait was a short one.  
“So...you’re going to need access to what...a surgery suite and one of their computers?”  
“Presumably, although as we know, they don’t practice medicine like we do. I’m only making my assumptions based on my knowledge and how I’d go about it. They may have something else in mind entirely.”  
“But...if you did get access to one of their computers...do you think they’d limit your access...your usage?  
Beverly shrugged, pulling down the corners of her mouth. “I don’t know, but given how paranoid they’ve been about playing their cards so bloody close to their chests, I’d have to say it’s most likely there’d be some kind of restrictions in what I could either access or do. I mean I’ll probably have one of their healers overseeing anything I do anyway.”  
When nothing further was said, Beverly asked quietly, “Why, Jean-Luc? What’s on your mind?”  
Still with his eyes fixed on his hands, Jean-Luc said softly, “I was just thinking how...helpful...it would be if you could access some information for me, that’s all.”  
“Let me guess. You want me to see if I can find a way to rid you of the Borg nanites by accessing the information stored in their databanks.”  
“It would be an ideal opportunity.”  
“And totally unethical.” It had been said softly, but the rebuke was clear. Both husband and wife sat in strained silence for a while before Jean-Luc sighed and shifted slightly.  
“I’m sorry, Beverly. You’re quite right; I cannot ask you to compromise your ethics over a personal matter.”  
Gently laying her hand on his forearm, Beverly tilted her head until their temples touched. “It’s a little more that a personal matter, Jean-Luc. I know you, my love and I know what the knowledge of what you carry in your body must be doing to you, especially given the consequences and your feeling of having lost your humanity. I’m just so very sorry I can’t help you.”  
Another lengthy silence dragged by until Jean-Luc said very softly, “What am I, Beverly?”  
Sighing deeply, Beverly moved closer so that their sides met. “If you’re referring to the grotesque description of you as a Borg/human hybrid, that’s bullshit, Jean-Luc. That term was used in spite, deliberately meant to put you in an untenable situation. Your brother was point-scoring Jean-Luc and he used whatever he could to kick your feet out from under you. You know what a hybrid is, Jean-Luc. Do you think you’re some kind of subspecies? A latent, undeveloped human/Borg...thing? That, Jean-Luc is utterly absurd and you know it!”  
“Since the battle of Wolf 359 there have been those who...”  
“Yes, I know and those individuals are bitter and misinformed. Look, grief does stupid things to people, Jean-Luc and as with most calamitous events there will be those who will always seek to find a scapegoat.”  
He seemed to be paying particular attention to his right thumbnail, picking at the cuticle doggedly. “Have you heard what some of those people have said about me?”  
“Yes,” hissed Beverly through her clenched teeth. “Yes, I’ve heard their vitriolic slurs, their vicious innuendoes and baseless accusations, but Jean-Luc, we’ve been through this! You know it’s not true! Don’t tell me I’m going to have to go over everything, point-by-point again?”  
“No,” he summoned a wan smile that didn’t reach his eyes which were still fixed on his thumbnail. “But in the light of what we now know, perhaps some of the...slurs...weren’t all that far off the mark. I mean if I’ve been altered at the atomic level by Borg technology I’m not exactly wholly human, am I. So I ask again...what am I, Beverly?”  
“Okay, let’s look at this from another angle. Do you make any distinction between Borg nanites and the nanites we regularly use or are you lumping all nanites together?”  
“Why is that important?”  
She almost rolled her eyes, but resisted the urge. “Because if you feel the same way about all nanites, then every Federation citizen walking around with our nanites inside them, happily doing the work they were programmed to do are not what they appear. Is that the case, Jean-Luc? A human patient undergoing treatment using nanites is no longer human?”  
When he said nothing, Beverly softened her tone. “And you’re forgetting something.”  
To his raised eyebrow, Beverly offered a tender smile. “Just as in the past you saved humanity from the Borg, your own body is helping to preserve your species by utilising its own defences. Face it, Jean-Luc, you’re a fucking hero. Again.”  
He couldn’t help it, the snort of disgruntled amusement burst out before he could stop it. Bumping her shoulder against his, Beverly said wryly, “Now stop wallowing in self-pity and help me up. I can’t feel my bum any more and I want to get this show on the road.”  
With his usual grace, Jean-Luc rose to his feet and assisted Beverly to hers. He held her hands and looked deeply into her eyes.  
“Merci beaucoup, Beverly. J’taime, mon coeur.”  
“You’re welcome and I love you too, Jean-Luc. Never forget it.”  
“I won’t.” He smiled. “....you won’t let me.”  
Beverly’s smile was so filled with love; Jean-Luc’s heart soared.

 

“Computer...” said Geordi wearily, “what if we...” Pinching the bridge of his nose, the dark engineer grimaced. “What’s the use?” he muttered. “We’re not going to be able to get through their damned shielding; I can’t understand why he thinks we can! What does he think we are...miracle workers?”  
Sonya Gomez sent her boss a sympathetic look and sidled over, joining him at the main console. The newly promoted lieutenant directed her steady gaze at the calculations Geordi had been making and shook her head. “So, sonar’s out?”  
“Yeah.” Sighed Geordi. “We know where to look; it’s getting through the shield to lock onto an object to beam up that’s so damned impossible.”  
As inappropriate and trite as it was, Sonya couldn’t help but comment, “Things are only impossible until they’re not.”  
Geordi’s expression showed both his disgust and his growing irritation. “Oh that’s just great! No shit, Sherlock.”  
Hearing her boss utter an expletive stunned the woman and she immediately felt sorry for being so fatuous. “I’m sorry, sir...I just...”  
Letting a short breath out through his nose, Geordi waved the apology away. “Don’t worry about it, Sonya...I’m just a bit on edge, that’s all. This...” he nodded towards the console screen. “Is the stuff of my nightmares.” He snorted softly. “Do you remember when Captain Montgomery Scott came aboard? We rescued him from a downed ship called the Jenolan. It’d crashed on the surface of a Dyson’s Sphere.”  
The frown of concentration on the lieutenant’s face cleared as she recalled the memory. “Oh, yes, sir, I remember him.”  
Folding his arms across his chest, Geordi softly grunted. “He told me the job of the chief engineer is to make the impossible possible and to do it in such a way as to not let your superiors know how you did it. And...to never give an accurate estimation of how long it would take.”  
“Why?”Asked a clearly confused Sonya.  
“Because...” grinned Geordi, “It preserved the mystique and went a long way to making you appear to be a miracle worker.”  
“...which you just said you’re not.”  
“Exactly!” Shaking his head, Geordi grunted again. “Commander Riker has given me an order, one which I am duty bound to obey and I want to, I really do, but...” he waved his hand at the console. “How the hell am I supposed to figure out how to circumvent something I don’t understand! Even the computer hasn’t a clue. God, I wish...”  
Sonya lowered her head and winced. “Do you think he could’ve done it?”  
“Data can do anything. You give him enough time and he can...” Suddenly realising he was speaking in the present tense; Geordi flushed and shook his head. “Damn!” He muttered softly.  
Embarrassed for her CO and feeling the echo of grief for their lost comrade, Sonya focused her full attention on the console screen in an effort to give her boss and friend some privacy to recover himself. It was while she was staring at the readouts that she said idly, more airing her thoughts than anything else, “Do you think it cycles?”  
“What?” said the distracted engineer.  
Pointing with her chin, Sonya elaborated. “The alien shielding...if that’s what it is. Do you think it cycles?”  
Unfolding his arms, Geordi frowned. “Well if it was a conventional shield grid, then yeah, it’d cycle, but we’re not seeing any grid of any kind. In fact we have absolutely no idea what powers it, so if you’re thinking of some sort of generator which cycles through a standard nutation, then forget it.”  
Warming to her embryonic idea, Sonya’s gaze became intense. “Only if the nutation is an oscillating one! What if, drawing on the raw power we already know they have, it waxes and wanes? We know about the absorption rates and we think we know the other number sets pertain to distribution...you said it yourself, that much raw energy would be damned hard to control...so wouldn’t it be just as difficult to maintain a constant energy shield without some kind of fluctuation?”  
His cybernetic eyes sharpening his gaze, Geordi straightened and snapped his fingers. “Oh, my God...you might be right! Computer, using a standard scan, sweep the coordinates of the multi-discharge and look for any disruption in the spectral field.”  
“Scanning.”  
The chief engineer and the lieutenant kept their gaze locked until the computer said calmly, “Disruption detected.”  
“Yes!” They shouted in unison. Geordi moved quickly to another console and began to input commands as fast as he could. Over his shoulder he said, “Well done, Sonya. I’ll be sure to let Commander Riker know this was your baby!”  
Feeling immensely satisfied, the young woman grinned. “Just as long as we don’t go bang the moment we beam anything up!”  
Shaking his head, Geordi chuckled. “That’s part of my job, Sonya. Carrying the can when things go... bang.”  
Ten tense minutes later, Geordi, Will and Sonya were standing in transporter room three. Tucking in his chin and surreptitiously crossing his fingers, Will said quietly, “Energise.”  
In the familiar blue, sparkling column of swirling light a vaguely humanoid shape began to appear, lying prone on the pad. Just as the gathered personnel realised the object was glowing, it abruptly vanished. At the exact same instant the red alert siren sounded and the ship was plunged into utter darkness. What followed was absolute mayhem.

 

At Jean-Luc’s summons, the adviser returned and led them both out of the room. In the corridor, two more beings waited and Beverly was politely directed to go with them. It was explained that she was to meet with some healers to discuss her findings and any treatment she had in mind.  
Jean-Luc was taken in the opposite direction with the advisor and wasn’t at all surprised to find himself back in the long room. The advisor left, giving no explanation, so Jean-Luc distracted himself by going over to the clear wall and staring out into the wind-swept, frozen wastes. He hadn’t been aware of it, but his senses had heightened by a small amount since he’d been on the planet and so he picked up the very subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room as the door silently opened.  
Although the ambient temperature, like the lighting, was constant, there were times when both changed. The glow of the aliens was one obvious cause for the change of light, but the temperature sometimes rose imperceptibly when the room’s occupants were only human. The difference wasn’t enough to make it comfortable; Jean-Luc still found it too cool for his liking, but the change was there, nonetheless.  
He didn’t turn or acknowledge his brother in any way. His twin came to Jean-Luc’s side and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him just as preoccupied with the bleak view as Jean-Luc seemed to be. Eventually the conscience said softly, “Quand j′ètais jeune, j′ai charchè un reconfort lá-bas.”  
Nodding thoughtfully, Jean-Luc replied, “I too sought solace in places like that in my younger days.”  
His eyebrows rising, the twin asked with growing interest, “Vous avez vècu dans une terre gelèe? La France est la glace?”  
Smiling, Jean-Luc shook his head. “No, France isn’t a frozen land, it’s not all ice. I meant that I sought solitude, that the places I went in my youth were very…quiet and in that quietude I found solace.” He turned to see his brother and their eyes met. Jean-Luc had a small smile on his face, one that in the recent past might have provoked the man into feeling offended, but now made him simply curious.  
“What is it you find amusing, Jean-Luc?”  
The smile grew. “Actually it’s interesting that you’ve asked me that in standard. It’s your French that’s caused my reaction.”  
His eyes narrowed, but the conscience gave his brother the benefit of the doubt. “Really. In what way?” An innocent enough question, but asked with a tiny hint of warning. Jean-Luc heard it and held up his hand.  
“I mean no offence; indeed your French is perfect. That’s what’s affected me. It’s pure and unaccented.”  
Clearly not understanding, the conscience frowned and tilted his head. Jean-Luc’s smile returned and his eyes twinkled. “Have you noticed the difference in the way Beverly and I pronounce our words? We’re both speaking standard, and the words are the same, but they sound different.”  
Shrugging, the twin pulled down the corners of his mouth. “I have heard some differences but I thought it was because you were different genders.”  
“Ah. No, that’s not the case. Remember our earlier discussion about countries? How each country has its own history and sometimes race? And how it’s very common for different countries to have their own, very distinct language?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well, even in countries that use the same language, there are regional differences. Even within the country itself, there are regional influences on how the language is spoken…how the words are pronounced…even the way of adapting the language to reflect the local flavor. It can be as expressed as a dialect, which is a sort of sub-language in its own right or a simple case of accent. Some accents are slight, some very strong and to those who study these things, known as linguists; it can be easy to identify not only the country, but the region within the country that the speaker is from.”  
The conscience nodded, understanding, but not knowing how to apply the new knowledge to himself. “So, why does my lack of…accent…amuse you?”  
“Now that is embarrassing.” Jean-Luc said, offering a rueful smile. “It takes us back to humankind’s persistence in hanging on to national identity. Many countries, if not all, are proud of their history, their contribution to Earth’s history, especially now as Earth has taken its place in a much larger community, comprising of our interstellar neighbours. But going back…and not that far…one can find a time where this national pride, some called it patriotism, represented itself in some fairly parochial thinking and France in particular had some groups within its population who wished to ‘preserve’ the purity of all things French, including our language. You see for much of modern Earth’s history, the English language was the dominant one, especially as it was the main language of commerce. This caused a great deal of discontent among those who resented the pollution of their cultures and languages by the influence of English-speaking countries. And in France as far back as 1635, a body, calling itself l′Académie Française was formed with the express purpose of protecting the purity of the French language. And it exists still to this very day, although since the mid 20th century it has had no binding power, it was always the official authority on the usage, vocabulary and grammar of French. With the saturation of English through the media and technology they tried to prevent what they referred to as the Anglicisation of the French language. Now I have never proscribed to their stance. I believe everything, including language evolves, in fact one of the best examples of this is English. From its earliest origins it has been adaptable, ultimately becoming a polyglot and it was for that reason it was chosen as the Federations’ default language, hence its name...Federation Standard.  
“To hear you, not only speaking unadulterated French, but French with no regional influences is astounding! It has made me think about my mother tongue for the first time in many, many years. It’s not a criticism, far from it, indeed I should thank you. Hearing, rather than reading my own language as it once was is somehow comforting. I know that must make little sense to you, but that is the only explanation I can give.”  
A companionable silence followed before a wry conscience remarked, “Perhaps I should inform the educators to reassess their sources. If their information is that out-of-date, maybe it’s time they caught up.”  
The men shared a quiet chuckle but soon lapsed back into silence. When Jean-Luc spoke there was an edge of hurt and anger in his tone.  
“Why did you seek to manipulate me with the knowledge you possess of what I carry within my body? Was it really necessary to demean me, to humiliate me so thoroughly? To so savagely wrench my perception of myself away? To rob me of my very humanity?”  
The conscience bowed his head and sighed, his eyes closing in pain. “I am sorry, Jean-Luc. You had taken a stance I found reprehensible and hypocritical.”  
He lifted his head and stared out into the dimness, looking but not seeing. “Had this entire situation not affected my children, I would never have been so deliberately cruel, but I felt if I could not find a way to render your argument null-and-void, you would persist with some kind of misguided rescue of either me; my children or all of us and could not let that happen. By telling you about the micro nanite infiltration of your body, I had hoped not to hurt you, Jean-Luc, but to put you in the same situation as my children. I fear my lack of understanding of human dynamics; human interactions caused me to be far more harsh…and tactless than I should have been. I know how devastating the news must have been for you, especially given that you now know it is the reason you cannot successfully reproduce but, Jean-Luc, if we were to change places, would you not do whatever you could, use whatever you had available to you to protect your children? Your people?”  
Jean-Luc turned at the same time as his brother and they stared into each other’s eyes. Jean-Luc understood, but the anger, the hurt lingered. The conscience saw this and sighed. “What would you have me do, Jean-Luc? You enjoy a position of authority and with that authority comes responsibility. Well, I too have authority and responsibility, but where your primary focus is your ship and the crew and the Federation’s concerns, my prime focus, my only focus, my raison d’etre is my people! Not seven hundred, Jean-Luc, millions! If your stakes were that high, how far would you go? Would you consider the feelings of one individual? Even if that one person was your long-lost identical twin?”  
“No,” sighed Jean-Luc. “No, I wouldn’t.”  
“Then do not judge me so harshly, Jean-Luc. I did what I did because I thought it expedient. What is the saying? Rien de personnel?”  
“Nothing personal.” Grimaced Jean-Luc. “Oh, yes, I understand. I suppose I should be experienced enough to not take it so personally, but I’m afraid my experiences with the Borg have left an indelible mark upon me, one I fear will never be erased, especially as I now know, at the very base components of my body I am still Borg.”  
“Jean-Luc…” sighed the conscience. “Despite my extremely poor choice of words, and my deliberate intent to shock and hurt you, surely you do not believe you are anything but fully human?”  
The smile that appeared on Jean-Luc’s face was cold. “That is something Doctor Crusher and my late ship’s counselor spent a very long time trying to convince me of. Do you know what a locutory is?”  
The twin frowned, tilting his head. “No…I do not think…”  
“L’locutoire.”  
“Ah! Oui.”  
“When I was assimilated, it wasn’t to make me a simple drone; no…the Borg had a much more sophisticated plan for me. I was assimilated in a very special way. Rather than becoming a drone, I became an entity known as Locutus of Borg. The speaker for the Borg. Ostensibly my task was to be the liaison between the about-to-be assimilated Federation and the Borg. As it turned out, I now know it was a ruse, but my real purpose, or so I thought, was to become the consort of the Borg queen. The Borg perpetuate themselves by assimilation, but there are circumstances where they reproduce sexually. However normal drones, having had their sexual organs removed as a regular part of their assimilation were useless for that function. So different kind of Borg was required. That, of course, was me. The offspring are used in two ways. Some, very rare individuals, are destined to become new Borg queens, but most of the rest are destined for nothing but organ harvesting. There are some Borg, deemed more important that most, who to sustain their existence, that is prolong the life of their organic parts by replacing failing organs with new ones. The unfortunate young, having donated the required organs are salvaged as drones, albeit with a much reduced lifespan but mainly they are simply terminated and their organic remains reconstituted into bioorganic food for the rest of the collective.”  
Jean-Luc grunted softly and shook his head. “Knowing what I know now, it’s highly unlikely I would’ve had any success in impregnating the queen and the irony is…it would’ve been their own damned fault.”  
His laugh was bitter, sending a shard of guilt and pain into the conscience. He placed a gentle hand on his brother’s shoulder. Feeling a deeply embedded need to help he spoke without his customary consideration, something he’d not done since his youth.  
“What if I told you I might allow my healers to reverse what has been done?”  
Jean-Luc’s eyes sharpened. “You would sanction remove the nanites? From the sub-atomic level?”  
Taking a much needed deep breath, the conscience, having broached the subject without due thought, had no option but to continue. “I am not a healer, Jean-Luc, I cannot say how far our medical community would go, but even if the nanites cannot be removed, I feel sure they must be able to be rendered inactive, at least in such a way as to restore your fertility.”  
Rubbing his fingers over his lower lip, Jean-Luc’s eyes darkened in thought. “At the moment I’m sterile. That is my body’s way of protecting my species from what the Borg have done to me. What’s to say any interference could only make matters worse?”  
“In what way?”  
“Think about it! If your healers get it wrong, who knows what may be produced! God…a human/Borg cyborg? Something grotesque? Something not…human?”  
He glared at his shocked brother. “Un monster putain?”  
The conscience gasped. “A fucking monster? Jean-Luc, you are not thinking correctly! Do you honestly believe that is possible? That our healers would allow that to happen? Why? Do you think we seek to punish you? Because it seems to me that you are doing that all by yourself.”  
Pushing his brother roughly, Jean-Luc poked the shocked man in the chest with a stiff finger.  
“You…” he said vehemently, “were never assimilated! You never endured the physical agony! You never watched while your mind was raped, your body violated and then all that you were used to destroy and corrupt, all the while knowing that as well as being the harbinger of doom of your people, you were expected to breed with the chatte who made you!  
“And you think you can make it all better by offering to make me fertile again! How dare you!”  
Confused, the conscience grabbed Jean-Luc’s fisted hands and gripped them tightly. Jean-Luc growled and tried to wrench his hands free, but his brother’s grip was as strong as his own. They soon reached an impasse.  
“Vas te faire encule!” Yelled Jean-Luc. “Lâchez-moi!”  
“Fuck you too, Jean-Luc, but no! I will not let you go!”  
The sobs seemed to come from so deep inside Jean-Luc that his entire body shook with their force. The conscience eased his grip and before his brother could escape, enfolded him in his arms, hugging him tightly. Jean-Luc grabbed fistfuls of his twin’s tunic and held on for dear life while his inner storm raged.

Had the circumstances been different, Beverly would’ve liked nothing more than to spend hours poring over the astonishing array of computer assisted medical technology and the enormous banks of data available about not only the indigenous species, but the species of all those beings who had served as the conscience.  
With the assistance of her two companions, Beverly accessed a three-dimensional image of each child’s auditory system and the two separate receptor areas of the brains. Inputting the information from her tricorder and having both described and explained her suspicions about synaesthesia, the three healers set about formulating a course of action by which the feed, that is the auditory input to the discrete receptors of the children’s brains could be temporarily disabled.  
It had taken some time for Beverly to convince the healers that it all probability, should they be successful in shutting off the feed, that the condition would most likely then be able to resolve itself. Indeed, when she had suggested that the conscience himself had overcome his experience with the condition on his own, rather than because of anything the healers had done, they were both sceptical and somewhat offended, but, with her superior, although admittedly sketchy knowledge of the condition exceeding theirs, the healers eventually had to accede.  
Beverly was very happy to find, once the healers accepted her diagnosis and her ideas for treatment, they showed nothing but dedicated focus and within a few hours a procedure had been decided on. To Beverly’s amazement, there would be no surgery involved. Using a technique so advanced she found it too sophisticated to completely understand, she was shown how the treatment would be implemented. There would be no need for any anaesthesia or invasive surgery; the entire procedure would be conducted by a computer, overseen by an alien operator. The only difficulty was making sure the children were not exposed to any sound.  
Having gained permission to be present, Beverly was taken, in the company of a fellow healer, to a non-descript room, light blue in colour and featureless except for a padded examination table with an overhead fixture of some sort. Entering an enclosed booth to one side, the walls of which were clear, Beverly watched as her colleague brought up all the relevant details of the children, including all the new information and images. The alien healer then activated a program and an awe-struck Beverly looked on as the screen in front of her displayed the entire procedure. She was so absorbed by what she was seeing she didn’t notice when all four children were ushered in.  
They must have been slightly sedated, as each was a little unsteady on their feet and their eyes were half-lidded. As Beverly watched, her companion gently tapped her shoulder, gesturing for her to look at the screen. There she read, “As you can see, all effort had been made to prevent the children from being exposed to any sound, but to assist in this matter, each child has been administered with a very mild sedative, but one that, although appears to have affected their motor skills, has actually dampened their auditory receptors. It is this deadening of their hearing, even though they are not using it that is causing some of the physical reactions you are seeing.”  
Before Beverly could ask how the procedures would be undertaken, given that all four of the children were present, her unasked question was answered when, as she watched, two healers gently encouraged one of the boys to lie on the table. The others were gently led to one side. They watched impassively as their brother settled and when a very bright blue light speared down from the fixture, Beverly momentarily lost her vision. She had turned away, screwing her eyes closed and placing both hands over her face but a gentle tap on her shoulder let her know she could once again open her eyes.  
Blinking rapidly to help dispel the spotty after images of light, Beverly made out a cloud of pale blue light hovering over the child’s head. It separated into two equal halves, each half going to the ears. Beverly couldn’t stifle a gasp as the clouds of light disappeared inside the ears. It obviously caused no pain as the boy remained still and calm, his face showing nothing but acceptance.  
His forehead began to glow, brighter than the rest of his naked body and a shaft of his own golden light rose to join, then mix with the downward beam of blue light coming from above. He seemed to sigh and his eyes drifted closed.  
Although Beverly had already seen all of this in the simulation, seeing it in actuality was stunning, almost but not quite spiritual in nature. The room was so preternaturally silent, those taking part so reverent, it stirred in Beverly long-thought-gone feelings of almost supernatural awe. The very fact she’d never seen anything like it before only added to her utter astonishment.  
Within a few minutes the procedure was over and the teenager assisted with gentle care from the table. He seemed even more unsteady on his feet, but other than that, none-the-worse for his experience. Each of the children touched him and Beverly wondered if it was to reassure, commiserate or merely to show love. Perhaps, she thought, a little of each.  
The next child, another of the boys took his place on the table and the procedure repeated and still Beverly was just as awe-struck as she was the first time and she remained so with each subsequent treatment. Just over half an hour later, all four children were back in their padded, silent room.  
As Beverly and her companion were about to leave the booth, she asked, “Would it be possible for me to have some kind of record of what has just been done? If not the technical notes, then perhaps a vid of some sort?”  
Looking back at the screen, she frowned and let out a frustrated sigh as she read,  
“I am sorry, Doctor Crusher, but that is not possible. You were only allowed to be in attendance because you have been instrumental in finding a way to help the conscience’s children. That is reward enough.”  
“I do not seek any reward.” said Beverly tightly. “I asked merely from a medical standpoint.”  
“My apologies, Doctor, I misunderstood your motives. Again, what you ask I cannot provide. In fact, we are going to have to insist you never divulge to any being what you have seen here. I am aware we have no way to compel you to abide by our wishes, we can only hope that your personal integrity is such that you honour our wishes in this matter.”  
Both Beverly and the healer knew this was a reference, though veiled to her Hippocratic Oath. Beverly bridled, but said nothing, understanding the depth of feeling behind the being’s need to remind her.  
Having been allowed to look in on the now sleeping children, Beverly asked to be taken back to Jean-Luc. She felt growing unease when her request was refused.

 

With none of the automatic systems of the ship functioning, and in complete and utter darkness apart from the meager light of their palm beacons, Will and Geordi had had to make their way to the bridge through the Jefferies tubes. Sonya, at Geordi’s request had embarked on a journey of her own back to engineering using the same method.  
As the two men negotiated the last of the cramped tubes, Geordi grunted, saying sarcastically, “Well, at least they left life support and gravity on.”  
“Yeah,” growled Will. “So nice of them! How magnanimous.”  
Geordi grunted softly.  
“You know, Commander, I don’t want to be the one to point out the obvious, but with this demonstration of their power, I can’t help but think we’ve been…well…lucky.”  
That brought Will to a halt. Twisting his large frame within the tight confines of the tube, he shot a hot glare back at the engineer, some of his expression lost in the ever-present dark.  
“Oh, really? And just what’s so lucky about sitting in a ship which at the moment is as useful to us as a floating stem bolt?! Jesus, Geordi! We’ve just been castrated! I don’t call that lucky!”  
To lighten the mood a little, Geordi gave a soft chuckle. “Hey, I agree with you! This ship is my baby and anything done to her I take personally, but think about it, sir. All we did was sneak under their skirts and try to beam something up. Now that got an immediate and rather obvious reaction…but we’re still here, aren’t we? No cloud of space dust where the ship used to be.”  
The big man, now once again moving forward on all fours, grunted sourly. “Yeah, well just don’t expect me to tug my forelock and ask forgiveness! They might be showing off and yeah, I get the message loud and clear, but this little show of might is wearing a little thin.”  
Having reached the last of the blast hatches, Will pressed a device onto the hatch and inputted a code. There was an audible click and hiss before the hatch parted a small distance. Using his hands, Will pried them all the way open and unfolded himself onto the dark bridge. The noise of his arrival caused one of the nervous crew to shine his beacon directly into Will’s face, making him bark, “Do you have to?!”  
The chagrined young officer immediately lowered the beam, saying with a stammer, “Sssorrry , Cccomandder.”  
Will sensed rather than saw Geordi exit behind him. Sweeping their beacons around, the exec soon ascertained no one was injured. “Right!” he said with as much authority and confidence as he could muster. “First things first. We need to get our key systems back on line. That means the comm. system, communications, shields and weapons. I want each of you to get a partner and start working on how to get access to those systems.”  
Turning, Will shone his beacon at Geordi’s midriff. “Mr. LaForge, I want you to get to the computer core. See if there’s been any damage done and if not, then find a way to boot it back up. I don’t care how you do it, where you find power, if indeed there’s any to find, but it seems to me that our alien friends have way too much access to our computer and I think that’s how they’ve managed to pull our plug out. If you can find out how to put it back in, we just might be able to have a little tète â tète with our hosts.”  
“Okay, Commander, but like you said, power is going to be a little hard to come by.”  
“Portable generators?” Suggested Will.  
Geordi shrugged. “I’ll give it a try, sir, but it’d take a lot of generators to supply enough power for an entire system reboot of the computer core.”  
“Granted, but we might not need a complete reboot…just enough for our key systems.”  
“I’m on it, sir. Ah…” Will couldn’t see it, but he knew his friend was grinning. “Permission to leave the bridge, Commander?”  
“Get out of here, LaForge!” snarled Will good naturedly. With little else to do but offer his help where needed, Will squashed his anger and impatience and set to work.

 

The conscience held his brother until his trembling ceased and his breathing evened out. He felt Jean-Luc’s hands release their hold of his tunic and a slight tension stiffen the man’s body. Not sure, but feeling his brother needed some space, the conscience let him go and took a step back. Jean-Luc lifted his hands and scrubbed his face before sniffing and giving his nose a wipe with his sleeve. Throughout all of this he kept his head lowered and his eyes downcast.  
“Are you feeling any better? The conscience asked gently.  
“Yes. “sighed Jean-Luc in a roughened voice. “I must apologise for such an appalling display. It was most…unseemly.”  
“Unseemly?” the conscience said incredulously. “Jean-Luc, your reaction was understandable…I do not think it could be described as unseemly.”  
Dragging his bloodshot eyes up to meet his twin’s concerned gaze, Jean-Luc tried to smile, but failed miserably. “Well whatever it was, I’m not happy about it, either me displaying it or you witnessing it.”  
“Je suis votre frère, Jean-Luc, votre frère jumeau.”  
This time he was more successful in summoning a genuine smile. “I know you’re my twin brother, but somehow that makes it worse. If you were a complete stranger…”  
The irony of his unfinished statement made both men frown. It was the conscience who said what they were both thinking.  
“But we are complete strangers, are we not? Yes, we are twins, identical twin brothers, but we might as well be each a different species. We have some things in common other than our physical appearance…gestures, tastes perhaps and of course there is always Shalaft’s! If not for that little genetic gift of our forebears, we would have never met. But as for anything else? We would need years, Jean-Luc. Years for me to learn all your history and years for you to learn mine. But we do not have years; we do not have weeks…at best we have days and I do not know how you feel about that, but I am left feeling…confused, discontented and bereft.  
“I have never had reason to resent my people or my position. I was chosen and I serve. It is all I have ever known. But now? I suppose it could be equated to you being shown something you find intensely interesting and just when you think you are going to get to understand it, it is taken away from you. Of course I am speculating, simply voicing my own opinion, but surely you feel the same?”  
“Yes,” Jean-Luc said softly. “I feel exactly the same. I want to stay; I want to get to know you…and your family. I’ve told you about our older brother, Robert.”  
“Oui.”  
“Well, what I didn’t tell you is that we didn’t actually get along.”  
Seeing the frown of confusion on his twin’s face, Jean-Luc sought to explain. “Look, I don’t want to give you the wrong impression about Robert. He was a good man, no doubt. He was a good son, a good husband and a good father to his son, but he and I…we just didn’t see eye to eye. I think he resented me from a very early age. But that’s not to say he’d feel the same way about you, had you been there. You and I are physically the same and yes, we do share other traits, but that doesn’t mean we have the same personality and it may have been my personality he didn’t like.”  
Gesturing for Jean-Luc to move across the room to the clear wall, the conscience rubbed his fingers over his lower lip, obviously deep in thought.  
“How did you not…see eye to eye? What does that mean?”  
Jean-Luc’s smile was rueful. “We disagreed a lot. We argued. Robert sided with our father about the continuation of our family’s tradition in wine-making and when I made it known, from quite an early age, that my intention was to join Starfleet to live and work in space, they were appalled. Both Robert and our father did everything they could to dissuade me and when it became obvious I wouldn’t be swayed, they became derisive and dismissive. Life was miserable for me for a very long time. I craved our father’s approval and he wouldn’t give it. And Robert? He went out of his way to bully and demean me. In short, my formative years were hell.”  
Sadness and shock warred for dominance on the conscience’s face. “Was there no one? No one to comfort you?”  
Jean-Luc’s smile grew incredibly tender. His voice was soft when he said, “Our mother. She was so gentle, so supportive. If not for her unwavering and unstinting love, devotion and belief, I don’t know that I would’ve succeeded in my dreams.”  
The conscience grunted softly. “My mother was also very supportive and so was my father.” The man chuckled. “My father thought he was a comedian. He was always playing tricks on me and my siblings. Even when we were older and could see what he was up to, we never failed to laugh. To do otherwise would have hurt his feelings.”  
“Tell me more about your family.” said a now curious Jean-Luc.  
“Oh, there really is not all that much to tell. I had a mother and father, two brothers and a sister…all older. My siblings had left the complex before I came of age and my parents soon after. I have not seen any of them since, although I know my parents now lie in the great floe.”  
Sadness made Jean-Luc sigh. “I know I have no right to judge, but that seems so cruel.”  
The conscience shrugged. “Perhaps, but in the beginning I was so busy I had little time to feel self pity and as I matured I found it wasn’t family I needed, but quite the opposite. Solitude was what I craved. I found it…out there…on the ice.”  
He sighed and lifted one hand to place his splayed fingertips on the clear surface. “Out there I could think, I could let my mind wander in private thought, not thought devoted to my purpose or by the constraints of my position, but thoughts that were mine and mine alone. Sometimes…”  
“Yes?” Jean-Luc prompted gently.  
“Sometimes I would sit in a sheltered spot and look up at the stars. And every-now-and-then…not often, but sometimes I would wonder…”  
“…if anyone like you was out there?”  
“Yes.” He whispered.  
“Me too. Although I knew there were others…many, many others. But never, in all my dreams had I ever thought I had a twin, an identical twin brother. Once Robert and his son Rene died, I was alone. Maman and father had been gone a long time and I had finally reconciled with Robert, but before we could take advantage of our newly found friendship he was gone too.”  
“And now?”  
“And now I find not only am I not alone…but I have a new family!”  
“And perhaps the ability to have one of your own?”  
“Perhaps.”  
“You will let us try?”  
The two men looked deeply into each other’s eyes and Jean-Luc sighed. “I don’t mind admitting I’m frightened, but yes, I am willing to allow your healers to try.”  
“I am glad, Jean-Luc. Now, I think it time you met my one. I happen to know she is intensely curious about you. Although…”  
By his twinkling eyes Jean-Luc knew he was amused. “I think she is actually more interested to see a version of me without this.”  
He reached behind him to lift his heavy braid. Jean-Luc chuckled and shook his head. “Yes, well I must say it makes a difference.”  
“Indeed.”  
As they walked from the room, their chuckles hung in the cool air long after they’d gone.

 

Beverly was unaware how, but the adviser had been summoned and appeared in the sparsely furnished room in which she’d been waiting. Unlike her husband, she’d not been detained, but on finding she was able to exit the room hadn’t exactly helped as she had no idea where to go. She had the impression the complex was a large one and though she suspected Jean-Luc and his brother would be in the large room with the clear wall, not only didn’t she know where it was, she didn’t know how to get there if she did.  
So she bided her time, worrying and fretting, but feeling there was a purpose to being…isolated…from both her husband and his brother and to be honest, she recognised they needed time alone.  
As their mission was now almost completed, their imminent departure meant that unless Jean-Luc was going to try to remove his brother and his children from the planet, their time together was soon to come to an end…prematurely. How, she wondered, do two people so inextricably linked, bound by their very identical genetics, reconcile the fact that having only just met, now must part, in all probability never to see each other again? It was a tragic and heart-rending situation; one that she knew would wound her husband deeply, especially when the knowledge of what he carries in his body is taken into account. She sighed and was pinching the bridge of her nose in deep thought when the adviser came in. He carried two eye shields and Beverly frowned, wondering why that was so.  
Gesturing to her new tricorder, in its holster on her hip, Beverly took it and guided her eyes to its screen.  
“The conscience wishes for you and his brother to meet his one. Please accompany me.”  
The journey was a surprisingly long one, making Beverly realise she’d underestimated the size of the complex. Where she’d thought it large, it now seemed to be huge.  
Rounding a gentle bend in a tastefully coloured corridor, Beverly’s face split into a grin of delight because before her was her Jean-Luc, who she could plainly see was not only calm, but exhibiting anticipation and gentle happiness on his face.  
The conscience, who had an eye shield in his hand, smiled widely and gestured to the eye shields his adviser carried. “I must ask you put those on…both of you. My peoples’ essence glows in direct response to strong emotion or deep thought. My one is excited to meet you…” his smile became a grin. “I believe the term is she will…Shine like a beacon.”  
Jean-Luc smiled with understanding and Beverly chuckled. They put the eye shields on, then felt the conscience take a hand of each and lead them into a room.  
They came to a halt and the conscience said gently, “My beloved one, this is my brother, Jean-Luc Picard.” He lifted the hand he held and the captain smiled as his face was touched very softly. He then heard his brother say “And this is his one…his wife, Beverly Crusher.” Repeating his action, he lifted their joined hands and Beverly smiled as she felt the ethereal touch to her face. There was a small silence, which the husband and wife presumed was to allow the vivid glow to diminish. That proved correct because the conscience said quietly, “Although you will find it a little uncomfortable, please remove your eye shields now. The glow will fade.”  
Even though they’d been warned, both Jean-Luc and Beverly screwed their eyes to mere silts and even then their eyes produced tears. But, true to the conscience’s word, the glow rapidly faded until it was tolerable and what they’d become accustomed to.  
The female was the same height as her one and although she wore a pastel green, unadorned top and cream trousers with matching soft, flat shoes, the light emanating from her hands, neck and head were enough for the humans to have to blink away the after effects of her bright glow.  
Tenderly stroking her face, an obviously enamoured conscience smiled as he watched her delicate hands rise. No one’s eyes but hers could see the movements of her fingers, but the conscience was ready to show the waiting couple his sleeve screen. But just as they moved closer together, the female stepped nearer, gently taking Jean-Luc’s hand and encouraging him to one side. As Beverly read, “I am very happy to meet both of you, but, if I may, I wish to see my one’s brother.” Jean-Luc watched intently as the alien being ran her hands lightly all over his body, as if she could detect the shape and musculature of him through his uniform.  
At first he was disconcerted, it was such an intimate thing to do and it was done with such familiarity, he had to remind himself that to this being he was identical to her mate…her one, so it was natural to touch him in such a personal way. This exploration ended with her hands delicately encircling his head. Although he couldn’t see her facial features, he somehow got the distinct impression she was smiling. With gentle urging he turned and he felt her run soft fingertips through the short bristles of his clipped light grey hair. He turned his head when he heard Beverly chuckle. Her gaze was on his brother’s sleeve.  
“She says there is less to play with.”  
Reddening slightly, Jean-Luc summoned an embarrassed smile. “Yes, well, I’m sure.”  
The conscience, on seeing his twin’s discomfit, went to him and placed a placating hand on his shoulder. “You need not be embarrassed, Jean-Luc. My one is taking the opportunity to remind me that this…” He reached around behind him to grab his braid and bring it around to his front. “Sometimes gets in the way.” He shot a wry grin at his one, then snorted. “Of course there are times when I do not braid my hair and then…” He grinned. “She gets lost!”  
The humans all chucked and the conscience showed the screen with its rows of odd text scrolling across the surface.  
“My one is laughing. At me.”  
With gentle urging, the female encouraged Jean-Luc back to Beverly where they stood close, basking in the open affection and obvious ease with which the conscience and his one had with each other. More text appeared as the female lifted her hands, but the words made the man frown. He almost dropped his arm, thereby hiding what she’d said, but Jean-Luc caught his brother’s action and gently snagged his sleeve. Reluctantly the man allowed the couple to read.  
“Are you going to take my one and my children from me?”  
Beverly frowned and lowered her gaze to her feet, her eyes closing as she knew what pain that question was causing her husband. To his credit he kept his voice even as he answered.  
“You are aware of my dilemma.”  
“Yes.”  
“I have not yet made up my mind, but I can tell you I am leaning towards not disturbing things as they are…provided I can gain some kind of assurance that the practice of…forgive me but there isn’t a kinder word to describe it…stealing of undeveloped human children from Earth stops. Now that still leaves a very grey area, in that humans, no matter where they are conceived or born are still under the auspices of the Federation and therefore protected by Federation law, an argument could be made that if they were conceived and born outside the Federation, then perhaps cannot be made to comply with the law as it stands.” He sighed and rubbed his brow. “I feel I should point out the law was never meant as a blanket coverage of all Federation species. Just as our charter is to peacefully explore it stands to reason that it would be inevitable that Federation citizens would eventually settle and reproduce outside of Federation space. The sticking point for me, at least, is the way in which the conscience is sought. Even if the mother was a human, living outside Federation space, I have a great deal of trouble accepting that taking a developing embryo, even though the mother would be unaware of its presence and she would have at least one other embryo, it’s still not right.”  
The female bowed her head and was momentarily still. She then lifted her head and her hands. Jean-Luc read from the screen, “But can you say the mother or the children we…procure…suffer in any way? The conscience is loved and nurtured by the family chosen for him, they volunteer even though they know once he reaches the age of acceptance they must be banished from society. Is their sacrifice to be forgotten in your distaste of our ways…ways that pre-date your Federation?”  
“I am aware,” sighed Jean-Luc, “that to your people, the Federation, indeed all the worlds within the Federation must seem very arrogant, very naïve, and I have to admit that was exactly what I was when I first discovered the details of how things work here. And I freely admit our implied right to judge others is the height of hypocrisy, given our, and by that I mean humankind's’ specifically, history of violence and intolerance, not only amongst ourselves, but yes, towards other world’s peoples. It has taken us so long to reach this stage of our evolution…” He sighed again and grimaced. “We seem to have taken the moral high ground, conveniently forgetting other species’ evolution…their very histories that are so much older than ours. Forgive me, we are still growing but I can tell you that we can and do still learn. But I alone cannot change policy. Once this comes to the attention of my superiors I cannot say what will happen.”  
It was the conscience’s tight, barely controlled, angry voice that made Beverly wince inwardly.  
“And just what can they do about it?! Jean-Luc it matters not! The Federation can complain, protest, they can even try to prevent my people from doing what they have done for centuries, but you and I both know you are helpless to prevent it! There is absolutely nothing your people can do!”  
Turning to his brother, Jean-Luc looked him in the eye, his gaze unwavering. “So are you saying your people would carry on with a practice they knew to be against the will of another species? That’s not the impression I’ve gained of your people, brother. Who’s doing the sabre rattling here? Your people or mine?”

“Sabre rattling, Jean-Luc?” said a mildly amused and derisive conscience. “Compared with the technology of my people, sabres are a fair equivalence of what your people have by comparison.”  
Beverly lifted her head and interjected quietly, “Why are we even discussing this? We all know that ultimately this is going to come down to Jean-Luc. He’s either going to gain some kind of agreement with your people and leave it at that or, having reached no consensus; he’ll have no option but to report the situation back to his superiors. What happens after that is in the lap of the Gods. Certainly it’ll have nothing whatsoever to do with Jean-Luc.”  
She smiled sadly and gently took his hand, lifting it and laying their joined hands on her cheek. “Jean-Luc is Starfleet’s most experienced and respected captain and his superiors will listen to him, but he is not a policy maker. He obeys orders, just like the rest of us. Piling your angst on him serves no useful purpose, except to make an already difficult situation worse.”  
The female raised her hands and the scowling conscience glanced down at the screen, his stern expression softening. “It would seem my one agrees with you, Beverly.”  
As more text appeared he offered the screen to the couple.  
“You are a mother, Beverly?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then I can see why you would see this differently.”  
A confused Beverly tilted her head and frowned. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”  
“Well,” the text read. “As a mother surely you would wish the best for your male children?”  
Cautiously, not knowing where this was going, Beverly nodded. “Yes, but that would so for any child of mine, male or female.”  
“Of course, but if you knew that a male child of yours was serving a purpose as important, as vital as that of the conscience, would you not be happy?”  
Growing increasingly unsettled, Beverly shook her head, saying tightly, “If my child grew to adulthood, with me, then if it was his or her decision to take the position as the conscience of your people, then provided it was their choice and an informed one, then yes, I would be happy. But to have one of my embryos taken without my knowledge…”  
Text appeared and Beverly stopped talking to read. “But, doctor, you would not know! How can that upset you?”  
Her blue eyes beginning to blaze, Beverly ground out, “You’d have to ask Jean-Luc that!”  
Jean-Luc had lowered their hands and gently parted them. He looked into the glowing area where he felt the female’s face was. “We seem to have reached an impasse. Until each of us can see this objectively I don’t see the use in discussing it any further. All we’re going to achieve is more anger and confusion.”  
The conscience looked at his brother frankly and nodded. “I agree, Jean-Luc. Nothing will be gained from further antagonism. In the end all each of us is doing is posturing.”  
He didn’t even look at his one, so familiar with her he knew she was talking. His eyes drifted to the screen and he smiled. Before he told the couple what his one had said, he turned to her and ran the back of his hand down the side of her face. With his gaze fixed on her glowing head, he said softly,  
“She apologises. She wishes you to know, Jean-Luc, and you, Beverly, that my brother and his one will always be welcome in our home.”  
The smiles were a little brittle, but at least they appeared. The conscience tilted his head in a very familiar gesture and addressed himself exclusively to his twin. “May I tell your wife, Jean-Luc?”  
Knowing exactly what he was referring to; Jean-Luc gave a solemn nod, but said nothing. The conscience directed his attention to Beverly and said gravely, “Jean-Luc has agreed to allow our healers to attempt to…restore him.”  
Turning to her husband, Beverly said softly, with growing excitement, “Jean-Luc?”  
He looked deeply into her eyes and offered a lopsided smile. “It’s true. My brother thinks there’s a good chance I can be made fertile again. It may be possible to completely remove the nanites, but if not, then render them inactive, thereby restoring my ability to produce children with you.”  
Beverly couldn’t stop the tears of joy that welled in her eyes, nor did she even try. “Oh, Jean-Luc…” was all she could muster before she took him in her arms. He hugged her tightly, struggling to keep his own strong emotions under control.  
Lifting her head only high enough to see the conscience, Beverly mouthed silently “Thank you.”  
He simply smiled and it was such an achingly familiar expression it made more tears flow.

 

Slow frustrating hours had passed on the dark, silent Enterprise, so that when power was abruptly restored, the sudden blaring of the red alert sirens and harsh, overly-bright light and the violent shuddering of the ship made everyone momentarily panic. On the bridge it was only Will’s curt, “Man your stations!” that quelled what may have become a full blown breakdown of SOP.  
Swinging around, the big man barked, “Do we have communications?”  
“Yes, sir!” Replied one officer. “We have intraship and broadcast available, Commander.”  
Nodding, Will was about to call engineering when the great ship shuddered even more violently, the lights and consoles flickering off and on.  
The call from engineering was static filled and Geordi’s voice clearly showed his immense agitation.  
“Bridge! We’re experiencing an enormous electromagnetic discharge all over our hull. It’s playing havoc with our systems and I’m only holding things together with hope and sleight of hand!”  
“What the hell is causing it, La Forge?!” Will shouted to be heard over the whooping sirens. Grimacing he snapped to no one in particular, “Turn that damned thing off!”  
Just as the officer at tactical said apologetically, “I’m sorry, sir, I can’t.” Geordi responded. “I don’t know Commander; the readings are off the scale. But I can tell you that if it doesn’t stop…and soon, we’re going to lose containment of the warp core. And those generators I used to power up the key systems? They’re being fried one-by-one. We’ll be back to where we started in a very short time, that’s if we don’t obliterate ourselves first!”  
Blocking out the incessant racket going on around him, Will closed his eyes and thought hard. Eventually he could come up with only one suggestion, but the ramifications were grim.  
“Geordi, the only thing I can think of that would produce an EM discharge of this intensity is if a ship is too close to us. Is it possible to scan?…not far, just maybe two hundred metres around the ship?”  
“I’m with you, Commander, but if another ship is the cause, it’d have to be suicidally close to create this much EM discharge, but I’ll see what I can coax out of our scanners before they crash.”  
Ignoring Geordi’s reply, Will, his face set in a stony glower, said curtly, “Can we access the forward viewscreen?”  
The response was hesitant; making Will struggle to curb his impatience. With the chaotic flickering off and on of the power and the by now ear-splitting wail of the sirens, coupled with the dreadful shuddering of the ship, everyone was becoming tense and irritable and very frightened.  
“I…I think so, Commander, but I can’t guarantee it’ll stay on.”  
“Do it!” Growled Will.  
Although everyone on the bridge had a job to do, it was natural that they all glanced at the viewscreen when it rolled, flickered momentarily, then activated to give a grainy picture. What they all saw caused a collective gasp and one anonymous voice to say in shocked vulgarity and fear,  
“Oh fuck! What the fuck is that?”  
Will didn’t even hear the tremulous remark. His eyes were glued disbelievingly at the image before him. Overshooting the Enterprise was the stationary underside of what could be only the biggest ship Will had ever seen. And, although it was glowing brightly, it was so close, merely twenty metres or so above them, that the EM discharges were like swirling bright blue snakes, writhing sinuously, clearly demonstrating the most incredibly powerful raw energy.  
When two vessels as intrinsically powerful as a starship came into close proximity to each other, the inherent naturally generated forces they exuded interact, combining the electrostatic, magnetostatic and electromagnetic fields. This interaction produces an infinite range of energy as the passive elements are drawn to the negative forces and creates current in an unending circuit. It is so powerful it has been estimated to be 1036, which is greater than Earth’s gravitational field.  
The expression of the gargantuan force is the manifestation of the EM discharges. The only thing preventing the immediate destruction of either ship was the fact that they were in space and therefore not connected to anything that could direct the circuit to ground. In effect, both ships were enveloped within an electrical storm that, given time would render the Enterprise first drained of all power and thus unable to control or prevent the inevitable loss of containment of the warp core. But if the Enterprise was in danger, what of the other ship? It was that question which made Will yell, “Geordi, are you getting this?”  
“Yes! Dear God, Commander, that thing above us is huge!”  
“Tell me about it! Geordi, why are they still glowing?! Can you tell if the EM discharges are having the same…or any… effect on them?”  
The din on the bridge was really getting on Will’s nerves. He needed to think and now his crew was not only rattled by the strobing of the lights and consoles, but now they had to deal with the knowledge that a behemoth of a ship was hovering over them like some kind of raptor, so close it was literally sucking the life from their ship.  
While the exec waited for Geordi’s reply, the ship was plunged once again into utter darkness and in the abrupt silence, so complete everyone’s ears rung loudly, a small female voice said,  
“Oh, shit…what now?”  
“Geordi?” Called Will, experimentally. When there was no reply, he raised his voice. “Bridge to La Forge!”  
Nothing; just dead air. The deck beneath their feet began to glow and Will looked down, saying angrily, “What the hell?”  
It was the officer at the con who said timidly, “Ah…Commander?” Will turned and was about to bark an admonishment when he saw what the crewman had called him for. Rather than scrolling, lines of text were tracing across the forward viewscreen, eventually appearing as the lines of text in a book. Stepping closer, Will read out loud.  
“We hope this small demonstration of our capabilities will encourage you to cease dabbling in things that are not your concern. Our planet is our home and it is sacrosanct. Until such time as you have been either given permission or are invited to access anything about our world or its people you will respect our right to privacy. If this demonstration is not sufficient to dissuade you, a stronger display of our power can and will be initiated. We trust, indeed we hope this will not be necessary. Do you comply?”  
Into the silent space of the bridge, eerily lit by the softly glowing deck, Will, squinting his eyes with both suspicion and humiliation, said tightly.  
“Yes! We comply!”  
The text on the screen vanished to be replaced by two words.  
“Thank you.”  
The shuddering that had become a feature of the ship abruptly ceased and the lights and consoles activated at the standard settings. Gone was the overly bright lighting, the haphazard on-off of the systems, to all intents and purposes, the Enterprise was back on line. This was confirmed when a wary call came from engineering.  
“Bridge? This is engineering. Is everything okay up there now?”  
Taking a deep, calming breath, Will shook his head. “Yes, Geordi, we’re no worse for wear.”  
“Commander, what the hell happened? One second we were a hairbreadth away from total annihilation…and then it was as if someone had thrown a switch!”  
Snorting his frustration, Will sought refuge in the command chair. “We’ve just had our nose bloodied, Geordi and it was done by the biggest kid on the block.” He half turned, craning his neck to catch the eyes of the officer at tactical. “I don’t suppose our computer got a look at that thing?”  
The officer frowned over his console and bared his teeth. “It got something, sir, but it’s like an incomplete slide show. It could only process when the power was on, so all we’ve got is bits and pieces.”  
“Shit!” Muttered Will darkly. Louder he said, “Well that’s better than nothing.” Lifting his head he said, “Computer, begin analysis of the data you’ve just compiled.”  
“Any analysis done will be incomplete, Insufficient data.”  
“Just do what you can!” barked an annoyed commander. Under his breath he murmured,  
“Jesus, what the hell is your job anyway?”  
To the waiting Geordi he said in a slightly more convivial tone, “Any damage, La Forge?”  
He heard the fatalistic and weary sigh. “Nothing we can’t handle, Commander, but it’s going to take a while to affect all the repairs. We’ve got blown ODN lines, ruptured conduits all over the damn ship.”  
“Well, Geordi, it’s not like we’re going anywhere soon anyway.”  
“I hear you, Commander.”  
“So…” asked Will cautiously. “Where’s the other ship now?”  
“I’ve got no idea, sir. It just appeared, did its thing and vanished.”  
“Hmm, just like their other ships. And what about the EM discharges? Do you think they were affected?”  
“I doubt it, Commander. In fact I’d hazard a guess they initiated it knowing it wasn’t going to trouble them at all.”  
“Damn! Okay, Geordi. Do what you can, we’ll sit tight up here.”  
“Right, sir. La Forge out.”  
Sitting in the command chair, Will mulled over the experience, paying quite a bit of attention to the behavior of the crew. He wasn’t happy with his conclusion. Rising, he said stiffly,  
“Lieutenant Stevers, you have the bridge.”  
The startled young woman nodded jerkily, blurting, “Aye, sir!”  
Will was on his way to his quarters. He could have called, but rather than ask after his daughter, he had an overwhelming need to see and hold her. And he wanted time to think about what he was going to do with the bridge crew. And the situation with the aliens.

 

The conscience, having given his one a surreptitious sign to leave, offered seats to his guests and while they settled, lifted his head and said softly, “Three drac.”  
Just as a replicator would’ve done, the requested items shimmered into existence on the small table around which they all sat. But where a replicator such as the Enterprise couple were familiar with would have made a distinctive sound and taken a few seconds, whatever produced the three filled drinking vessels was silent, much faster and discreet. Looking around, neither Beverly or Jean-Luc could identify any apparatus or device, indeed, as Jean-Luc’s curiosity gathered strength, his eyes inspected the room with greater intensity and he soon realised that apart from the sparse, but comfortable furniture and two moderately large windows on the far wall, there was nothing else. No light fittings, no ventilation grilles-and yet he could feel the gentle movement of the cool, circulating air- his curiosity deepened. Glancing at the windows he could see the light from inside only just penetrated the darkness outside and yet, within the room, in fact right throughout the complex, there was ample light, not bright, but adequate. So if there were no light fittings, where was the light coming from?  
His perplexed look wasn’t lost on his brother. With a small smile he said quietly, “It is the essence, Jean-Luc.”  
Turning to look at his brother, Jean-Luc’s gaze was intense. “The essence?”  
Before the twin could explain, Beverly placed a gentle hand on her husband’s forearm and said softly, “Yes, Jean-Luc. The essence. That’s what it’s all about, that’s what’s at the very heart of these people. Their very core.”  
“What are you saying, Beverly? I don’t understand.”  
She sighed sadly and tried to let him see she never meant to hurt him by not telling him everything she knew. “I have told you about the biochemical relationship these people have with their star…the one they built.”  
“Yes.” said a now disturbed and wary Jean-Luc.  
“Well, it’s not just a star, tiny or otherwise. Not exactly.”  
His head swiveling between his wife and his brother, Jean-Luc settled his piercing gaze on his wife. “I think you’d better explain yourself, Beverly.”  
She was clearly uncomfortable. She shifted in her chair and her hands began to wring on her lap. Taking a deep breath, she swallowed and made a start. “Jean-Luc, this goes way beyond the Prime Directive, it goes way beyond the Hippocratic Oath. What I know about these people and their relationship with what’s in the anomaly…Jean-Luc there is a sacrosanctity about what lies in there and I’m not at all sure I should speak about it, that I have the right to say anything about it.”  
His captain’s mantle settling over him only made Beverly sadder. In an effort to make him understand, Beverly increased her grip of his arm and stared unwaveringly into his eyes. “Jean-Luc, you have to admit that sometimes there are things we just don’t have the right to know.”  
She could see the conflict in his eyes. One part of him, the captain, was angered that an experienced officer under his command would deliberately choose to withhold what could prove to be vital information, but on the other hand, there was Jean-Luc, Beverly’s husband, who did understand, but felt hurt because she didn’t confide in him, especially as it involved his own twin brother. Before the situation between husband and wife, captain and subordinate could escalate, the conscience said gently, “It is all right, Beverly. I will tell him.”  
Jean-Luc, having given Beverly a long, measured look, turned his attention to his brother. The man’s gentle smile settled some of Jean-Luc’s inner turmoil.  
“As Beverly has told you, my people are inextricably tied to what exists within the…anomaly…as you call it. Yes, at its very heart it is a manufactured forced nuclear reaction, a minuscule star, but, Jean-Luc…it is so much more.” He turned and stared out into the darkness for a few long seconds before sighing and refocusing on his brother. “My people are a society that exists for and by itself. By that I mean that each and every individual not only lives their own lives, but does so keeping in mind society as a whole. Nothing is done, either as a group or as an individual without careful consideration as to the consequences for the entirety of our society. Now that may seem a little excessive. It may seem to you that the actions of one surely could have little or no effect on the whole, but that is not the case here.  
“When the people first arrived here, on this barren, frozen world and the citizens began to fade and die, our scientists knew they had to come up with a solution…and quickly. They had the knowledge and the technology to create a small star, but not the ability to stabilise or maintain it. That required something quite extraordinary and if not for the inherent altruism of my people, there would be no society, indeed no people today.”  
He looked down at his hands, his expression one of deep introspection. Jean-Luc wondered if his brother was lamenting the fact he lacked the ability to communicate as his people did.  
“What eventually took place was one of the most selfless acts any species could lay claim to. In order to stabilise the new star, and to assist in its integration within the cells of the people, eight thousand seven hundred and eighty people volunteered to sacrifice their lives so that their essence, what Beverly so clinically described as a biochemical reaction, could be fused into the fledgling star thereby forever linking the people to this new life-giving creation.  
“And that sacrifice continues to this very day, Jean-Luc. What Beverly said is true, even after death my people go on giving, providing for the others. This collective cooperation has been the cornerstone of this species’ existence since recorded time and it was for that reason my people came to the conclusion that it was unconscionable to be governed by one or even a group of their own kind. They are so bound by the societal prerogative, the very thought of one of their own being in a position of power over the rest, was impossible. And so the concept of the conscience was born. But it never occurred to the ancestors that the chosen sentient being would object. To them then, and even now, the very thought that a sentient being wouldn’t see what an important and vital task they’d been chosen for was logical and fulfilling a noble position just never entered their heads. Why would it? My people had, by-and-large, evolved on their own. They had no reason to think any other species wouldn’t be of the same philosophy. It came as quite a shock when the first few consciences reacted so violently and vehemently to their abduction and installation.  
“Over time, of course, things changed. More and more species became space travellers and inevitably, some, like the Borg, became overtly hostile, but my people were never in any danger, indeed behaviour as they began to witness only made them more determined to stay hidden.  
“But of course, having lived with the concept of the conscience for so long, as I’ve already told you, it is a system that is simple, elegant and efficient; my people are not going to change. They cannot! It would dismantle their society, a society so old and successful it makes your Federation seem child-like.”  
Jean-Luc absorbed all that and laid his forearms on the table, interlacing his fingers. He too stared at his hands.  
“So if it’s not a star, exactly, what is it?”  
The conscience sighed, sat back and ran a hand over his bald pate. “I am not sure I can give you an accurate interpretation. It is organic…”  
“Living?” Jean-Luc asked incredulously.  
“In a way, yes. Just as the gamma radiation is incorporated into the cells of my people, so the essences of those who sacrificed themselves lives within the forced nuclear reaction.”  
“So…” Jean-Luc frowned as his mind wrestled with the astonishing concept. “So, every time the star discharges, it’s returning the energy back to the people.”  
The conscience offered a wide smile. “Yes! And within the star, the donated essence is self perpetuated simply by the nuclear reaction.”  
“An unending circuit!” said Jean-Luc triumphantly. “My God, that’s incredible!”  
“Indeed. Not only did those long dead scientists find an answer to the problem of saving the people, they did it in such a way as to give their society, their people the means to live forever. My people are born, they live and they die in the natural way of all things, but as long as our system remains undisturbed, my people will not alter.”  
He waved his arm in a wide sweep. “Everything you see, Jean-Luc, not only the people, but everything, our buildings, our ships, our clothing and food, everything comes from the essence! Just before you were trying to work out how this room was lit. Yes?”  
With an amused light in his eyes, Jean-Luc merely nodded.  
“Can you not see, brother? Look again.”  
Sitting back and sliding his hands off the table to rest in his lap, a relaxed but alert Jean-Luc studied his surrounding with a new perspective. Instead of looking for that which was familiar to him, he tried to see as his brother did and when he finally made the connection between what he was seeing and what his brain was telling him he actually gasped.  
“Dear God…the walls…the ceiling….it’s all light!”  
Smiling indulgently, the conscience folded his hands behind his head and sat back, very satisfied and willing to let Beverly take up the narrative.  
“Is it all alive?” Jean-Luc spoke so reverently he almost whispered.  
“No,” said Beverly. “Not what we’d think of as alive, but everything carries the essence, so in effect there are living cells in everything. Nothing to enable sentience, but I can’t say that what you see around you isn’t as much a part of this species as their own physical selves.”  
“A symbiotic relationship.”  
Beverly screwed her face up. “No, it’s way too complicated for that particular description, although it has elements of interdependency. Try to think of it more along the lines of metabolism.”  
That made Jean-Luc frown. “Metabolism?  
“Uh huh. As a living entity, humans must ingest food. Then inside the body, that food is digested and the resulting fluids metabolised. Take way the food and there’s no metabolism and the body begins to feed on itself until it can no longer sustain itself and it dies. Same thing at work here. The relationship between the essence and this species is as vital as food. The only difference is that where we have to source our food and have a constant ingestion to stay healthy, because this species has incorporated its essence in everything, the energy pulses from the star are just top ups. Like your brother said, it’s like a perpetual motion engine. It just goes on and on in an unending circuit.”  
“And the dead continue to provide for the living.” Jean-Luc sighed and shook his head in wonder. He looked at his brother and smiled. “Your people are indeed unique.”  
“Yes, they are. But that does not solve our mutual problem.”  
Holding up his hand, Jean-Luc grew serious. “Would it be possible for me to meet with a group of representatives of your people?”  
“Why?” Asked a confused conscience. “No group of my people have any power or status to arrive at any decisions. That is my task. I am the conscience.”  
“Yes, but you’ve told us that your peoples’ society works together and that they’re not going to abandon the concept of the conscience. Correct?”  
“Yes.”  
“Well surely I can make my concerns known? If I can convince your people to desist in procuring the conscience from within Federation space I think the problem would be solved.”  
By the familiar tightening around the skin of his mouth and eyes, Beverly could see the conscience was annoyed. Speaking softly and enunciating slowly, he said,  
“I have already told you, that decision will be mine! I speak for my people. I am the conscience!”  
Growing increasingly annoyed himself, Jean-Luc said tightly, “You are being deliberately obstructive!”  
“Vraiment, Jean-Luc? Eh bien je crois pour ma part vous êtes un pique arrogant!”  
Although his expression didn’t alter, Jean-Luc blinked in surprise. It had been a very long time since anyone had called him and arrogant prick in his native tongue.  
“Be that as it may, it alters nothing. One way or another, brother, we have to find an equitable solution to this.”  
“Or what?” the twin said contemptuously.  
Jean-Luc’s smile was cold. “Oh, I know we can’t stop you, we haven’t a hope in hell, but are your people going to be happy when they discover that despite all their efforts to procure the conscience in such a way as to not distress the mother from whom the embryo was stolen, the cat is now out of the bag and we poor, plodding humans object. Yes. We object as pathetic as that might sound to you. Your expounding of your peoples’ society? The selflessness? You’re not unique in that. Humankind is reaching a similar stage and we’re not going to sit idly by and allow your people to continue with this unspeakable theft of living, sentient beings!”  
The tension in the room almost made the air crackle with charged energy. Beverly held up her hand and said quietly, “We seem to be back to square one. It’s not just the star and the essence that’s perpetually in motion.”  
There were several more long seconds of strain before Jean-Luc bowed his head, shook it and sighed. The conscience’s glare faded and he too sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his prominent nose. It was Jean-Luc who spoke first.  
“I apologise, brother. It’s a very emotive issue.”  
“Yes, it is. But I too, must apologise. I do see your point, Jean-Luc but I am torn. My first, my only priority is my people; just as yours is to your people. I do not see how we can reconcile our differences.”  
“Well,” sighed Jean-Luc. “Somehow we must!”  
The three humans sat in perplexed silence for some minutes before the conscience placed his large hands flat on the table and gave his brother a measuring look. “Are you ready, brother?”  
Tilting his head slightly, Jean-Luc felt his artificial heart accelerate in response to the sudden flood of adrenaline in his body. “You mean...?”  
“Oui. Il est temps.”  
As Jean-Luc slowly rose from the chair he reached for Beverly’s hand. She looked at him, making the translation. “Yes. It is time.” She summoned what she hoped was an encouraging smile but her heart too was racing.

 

 

Having told the pale and obviously shaken ensign who served as his baby sitter to take a break, Will laid back on the sofa with Charlotte awake and making squawks and crows, bringing an indulgent grin to her proud and loving father.  
He held her around her chest and under her arms, lifting her until her little feet, clad in soft, cream coloured booties, just lightly brushed his stomach. He looked down at her feet, screwing up one side of his face and idly wondering if he really had the time to take off his uniform tunic and her booties to feel the sensation on his bare skin.  
He had found feeling his daughter’s skin on his very calming as if it was a connection, not only between him and Charlotte, but Deanna too. He sighed; remembering how beautiful his lover’s skin had felt under his fingertips.  
Looking up at his little girl he smiled tenderly and said softly, “You’ve got a lot to live up to my little one. Your mother was stunning, she could stop men in their tracks and either destroy them with a mere, withering glance, or make them helplessly melt with a lingering look. I know it worked on me. The moment I set eyes on her, I was a done deal!”  
He lowered the baby until she was lying on his chest, her hands opening and closing reflectively while she snuffled around his neck, her legs pushing up and down. Tucking in his chin so he could place a tender kiss on the soft fontanelle, he said tenderly, “Your mother used to call me Imzadi. It means beloved in her native tongue. I have lost her, little Charlotte, but I have you. You are now my Imzadi. It’s different of course, you’re my daughter, not my life partner, but I love you no less. From now on, my sweet girl, you are Imzadi to me, now and always.”  
Being with his daughter had the effect of recharging Will. He lay with her for only a little while longer before summoning the ensign back to his quarters. The young woman had managed to regain her composure and Will decided to give her some encouragement. He handed Charlotte to her and said,  
“How long have you been aboard, Ensign?”  
“Oh! Um…three months, Commander.”  
“Three months?” said an amused Will, barely hiding his grin. Slowly but surely his old self was emerging. “First posting?”  
Growing a little less tense, the youngster nodded; a ghost of a smile evident. “Yes, sir.”  
“Well, Megan, isn’t it?”  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Well, Megan, that little contretemps we just had? Think of it as SOP. You’re in space now and just as we’re bound to do some really interesting stuff, sometimes it gets a little scary.”  
Almost mouth agape, she said incredulously, “Scary, Commander? I wouldn’t call what we just went though, scary, sir, I was terrified out of my mind!”  
Immediately alarmed, Will’s geniality vanished to be replaced by a hard look. “Where was my daughter during the entire time?”  
“In my arms, sir and both of us were under the table.”  
Taking a deep breath, Will let his rising tension abate. He even allowed a small smile to appear. “Well, that’s probably not a bad idea.” He sobered then. “Look, Megan, I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again, so when you’re relieved, just let whoever takes your place know that your idea of holding Charlotte in your arms and sheltering under the table’s fine by me.”  
Almost letting out an audible “Phew!” The ensign summoned a small smile. She even ventured, “Commander, you needn’t worry. The entire crew wants to babysit for you.” She looked up into Will’s eyes and the exec felt his heart squeeze as he realised just how young she was. “Counsellor Troi, sir. I never had the privilege of meeting her, but so many people have told me what a lovely person she was. I guess we just want to…help in whatever way we can.”  
Humbled and feeling the all-too familiar lump forming in his throat, Will merely nodded and plastered a smile on his face. Somehow he managed to say, “I’ll be on the bridge.”  
After he’d gone, Megan hugged Charlotte and smelled the telltale whiff of a dirty nappy. As she went to the nursery she whispered to the baby, “We’re going to get your daddy through this, little Miss Riker. Until the captain comes back, he’s the man!”  
Charlotte stared up implacably with her obsidian eyes and cooed. Megan giggled.

 

Before entering the room, the conscience, now with his adviser, brought everyone to a halt. Taking the eye shields from his friend, Jean-Luc’s twin said quietly, “I apologise, but I will have to ask you to join me in wearing these.” He lifted his hand. “My peoples’ ability to glow is connected to their emotions and any physical stimuli. Even deep thought will cause them to glow too brightly for any human to withstand.” He summoned what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “While you are being examined, Jean-Luc, although the actual investigation of your body will be done by our computers, there will be three healers present. Depending on what they discover is how profound their essence response will be.”  
“I see.” Said a tentative Jean-Luc. “Can you tell me what this examination will consist of?”  
Frowning, the conscience sighed. “I am afraid not. I am not a healer, Jean-Luc and in truth, until my children fell ill, I had little to do with healers. Happily, I have maintained robust good health.”  
Slipping her hand into her husband’s, Beverly said quietly, “So has Jean-Luc.” She turned her head to look at him, her smile one of appreciativeness, admiration and love. “He’s a fine physical specimen.”  
The conscience’s highly amused look was gone very quickly, but not before Jean-Luc had felt the flush of disgruntled embarrassment.  
“Yes…well…” He said, drawing his dignity around him. “Perhaps it would be best if we got this underway?”  
Inclining his head, the twin smiled. “Of course.” He hesitated and directed his gaze into his brother’s eyes. “I have done some research, Jean-Luc. Fortune sourit aux audacieux?”  
With a soft expulsion of breath from his nose, Jean-Luc briefly closed his eyes, a small smile evident. “Fortune does indeed favour the brave. I can only hope to live up to that particular adage.”  
With a nod of acceptance, the conscience gestured to the door and once it opened, it quickly became obvious Jean-Luc was to enter alone. Beverly tightened her grip on his hand, her eyes showing her alarm. Seeing this, and before Jean-Luc could say anything, his brother said softly, “Fear not, Beverly. You will be near, you will be able to observe once the glow has faded sufficiently but you cannot be in the same room.”  
A protest teetered on her tongue, but Jean-Luc squeezed her hand and said, “It’s all right, Beverly. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”  
She marvelled at the way he was quelling his own fear to reassure her, so to help him she acquiesced, but not before she kissed his cheek and whispered, “I love you.”  
He said nothing in return, but she saw his love for her in his eyes. As he donned the eye shield and entered the room, the door slid silently shut. The conscience ushered Beverly, with the adviser, into an adjoining side-room, much like the booth she’d occupied during the children’s surgery only more spacious and with seats. With the conscience and Beverly effectively blind, they had no way to know what was happening, they would have to rely on the recordings and the adviser who would let them know when it was safe for them to remove the shields.  
Jean-Luc tried not to startle when the gentle hands began to remove his clothing. His softly spoken, “I can do it.” stopped his disrobing and he finished the task himself. Goose bumps covered his body in the too cool air and he couldn’t suppress a shiver. Gentle hands guided him and his feet moved cautiously. Within what felt like a few metres, gentle pressure on his shoulders seemed to impart the direction to remain standing, but still. He gave a slight nod and said, “I understand.”  
He never heard the healers retreat behind their console. Standing alone in the room, the naked man gave himself over to the aliens.

 

The adviser watched in stoic silence as the brilliantly vivid light encased Jean-Luc so effectively, even he could no longer see the human. His eyes, visible to only his own kind, tracked the progress of the scan and as the light penetrated to the very atoms of Jean-Luc’s body, the adviser frowned at what he saw. Abruptly the light vanished, but the glow from the healers was almost as bright. The adviser, vividly radiating himself, used a computer uplink to gesture to his fellow beings,  
“It is a serious infestation.”  
“Yes.” They agreed. “The Borg have indeed left a significant presence. There can be no doubt they wished to keep him…or his progeny. All they would have had to do was send the activation signal. Compete assimilation would have taken mere minutes.”  
Sighing, the adviser gestured, “Is he salvageable?”  
“Unknown. We are not sure what will happen to his cells if we remove that which his body has integrated itself with so successfully.”  
“What are your predictions?”  
There was a hiatus while the healers considered the question.  
“Again, it is difficult to say. We have not had to do this before. Our simulations suggest it is possible, but even with our intimate knowledge of this life form and our technology, an infiltration at the sub-atomic level of the body makes it a dangerous proposition to attempt removal.”  
“I see.” The adviser chanced a glance at the two humans who stood rigidly, both facing the clear wall, even though neither could see. He sighed. “Is it possible to render the infestation inert?”  
“Yes. But that may not successfully address his infertility. It may allow the zygote to continue to divide and develop normally, but that would mean that any offspring he and his one produce will carry the infestation, although on an ever-decreasing scale. However, even inert the mere presence of the micro nanites may inhibit cell division in the zygote.”  
The adviser sighed.  
“So either way, he either regains his fertility and passes on a significant amount of nanites to each offspring or he remains infertile.”  
“Yes.”  
“Please lessen the essence. I require interaction with the conscience and his brother’s one.”  
The glow slowly faded until it was at a tolerable level. Placing a gentle hand on his conscience’s shoulder, the adviser let him know he could remove his eye shield. The man looked at his brother, seeing him naked and so vulnerable. He let Beverly know she could take off the shield and she gasped softly at seeing her husband. She called out, placing her hand on the clear wall. “Jean-Luc?”  
“He cannot hear you, Beverly, nor can he see with the shield on.”  
Nodding sadly, Beverly sighed and dragged her eyes away from the upsetting sight. The adviser directed the twin’s attention to the screen on the wall and he gestured for Beverly to join him as they read.  
Mere minutes later Beverly whispered with sick awe, “Oh, my dear God.”  
Casting a confused look at her, the conscience knew it was an inappropriate time to ask what that meant. He’d heard the fear and horror in those whispered words.  
The adviser lifted his hands.  
“Doctor Crusher, you can see the dilemma our healers face. It is possible to remove the nanites, we possess the technology to do it, but we do not know what it will do to your one. He may not survive. Either the procedure could kill him or his body may fail without the nanites.”  
Beverly reread the information and bared her teeth, her hands fisting painfully. “Dammit!” Struggling for control, she knew it wasn’t going to be her decision…it never was. Turning her attention to the conscience, she said quietly, “Can I speak to him?”

“Yes, but not in the same room. You must stay here.”  
Nodding her acceptance, she turned as Jean-Luc’s brother gestured with his hand to show the link was open. She strove to keep her voice calm and steady, belying the desperate fear and dread she felt she knew her next words would bring.  
“Jean-Luc, can you hear me?”  
His head twitched slightly, but otherwise he remained still. “Yes.” He said quietly.  
“You have a decision to make, my love.”  
“Go on.”  
As gently as she could, Beverly told him what she knew, and finished by saying, “…so it’s either leave them in your body, inert and hope for the best or risk your life to remove them.”  
There was a tense silence before Jean-Luc said, “But if they’re left, even if we successfully produce children, they will carry these…nanites…”He said the word as if it was an obscenity. “And be just as infected as I am.”  
“Yes, but to a lesser degree. Without the ability to self-replicate, each time you ejaculate, you will be lessening the amount of nanites in your reproductive system and, as you know, it only takes one sperm to fertilise an egg. But because the nanites are in your body at the sub-atomic level, we’re talking about such an immense number it beggars belief. If you take an average human weighing say….seventy kilos, that’s a calculation of approximately 7x1027, and that’s just the atoms, not the sub-atomic amount! So although each subsequent child would have less nanites than the one preceding, the amount with still be…well…”  
Jean-Luc held up one hand. “I get the picture.”  
He sighed, bowed his head and was still and silent for several long moments. When he lifted his head, Beverly knew what he was going to say and she almost sobbed with fear, sorrow and helpless grief.  
“I want them gone. I want them out of my body. I want to be fully human again and not infect any child I make with you, Beverly. I want my legacy to be ours, not stained with the filth of the Borg. And if I die in the process, at least I will die an unsullied human, not some grotesque parody of a living drone. I want my freedom!”  
It was so natural for Beverly to seek solace in the arms of Jean-Luc’s twin. He was surprised but his arms went around her so easily. She hugged him tightly, muffling her sobs in his familiar feel of his broad chest. He spoke for the bereft woman.  
“Very well, Jean-Luc. Nous comprenons. Ce sera comme vous le soulhaitez. Bonne chance, mon frère.”  
The gentle words, said with such heartfelt solidarity made Beverly sob all the more, especially as she brought the words together in her mind. “We understand. It will be as you wish. Good luck, my brother.”  
He eased Beverly from him and very gently turned her so she could see her husband. Although he still wore the eye shield, he seemed somehow to know where to direct his gaze. His head lifted and turned ever so slightly and Beverly gasped as she knew he was looking straight at her.  
The conscience said softly, “You must put the shield back on now, Beverly.” And it made her groan softly, “No.”  
But she had no choice. The thought that she may have just seen the last image of her husband alive almost made her collapse. Sensing her distress, the conscience assisted her in putting on the shield, then he donned his own before wrapping his strong arms around her and hugging her to him. Lifting his head he said firmly, “The essence will protect him!”  
In the room the light intensified to incredible levels. The process had begun.

 

When the quiet voice of the officer at tactical reported the latest discharge from the anomaly, Will merely grunted. His frustration, already sizeable was growing by the minute.  
Where Jean-Luc’s command strengths lay in limitless patience and careful calculation, Will’s were in unpredictability and pro active strategies. To sit helpless and cowed on the bridge of the flagship of the fleet, unable to do anything without permission struck at Will in a very deeply personal way.  
His childhood, since the age of two when his mother had died and through the tough years with his distant and seemingly cold father, culminating with Will being abandoned by his father when he was only fifteen, had left an indelible mark on the man. From such a young age he was determined to be responsible for his own destiny, in charge of not only his life, but his situation wherever possible, made his current predicament all the more galling. It ate at him like acid, turning him sour and sullen and without the steady presence of Deanna to help him cope, his dark mood only intensified.  
He sat stiffly in the command chair, staring with barely contained fury at the planet, the fact that they still couldn’t see it clearly only adding to his dark mood. He heard the aft lift doors open, but he didn’t turn to see who had just stepped onto the bridge. It wasn’t until a presence close to his left made him glance that way.  
Geordi La Forge had served with Will for a very long time and knew the man well, both as his exec and as a good friend. The engineer knew exactly what the first officer was going through. At a curt gesture from Will, Geordi sat in the vacant seat to Will’s left. He glanced at the forward viewscreen, grimaced and turned to face the commander. Will chose not to look at the dark man, choosing instead to keep his internal fire ablaze by glaring at the indistinct image before him.  
“You know…” a tired Geordi remarked idly, “My mother used to say that the longer you stayed angry, the shorter your life.”  
Will’s curt grunt made Geordi shrug. “I don’t know what to say, Commander. The repairs are well underway; we’re replicating new generators to replace the ones we lost…” He sighed and shut his eyes, gently pushing his fingers into them. “Hell, sir, I don’t like this any more than you do, but we really don’t have a say, do we.”  
Turning to face his friend for the first time, Will’s expression softened. Seeing just how exhausted Geordi was robbed Will of some of his anger. “I know, Geordi and that’s what really eats at me. I hate it when my hands are tied.”  
“I hear you, Commander, God, I agree with you, but what can we do? The aliens have made it abundantly clear not only will they not tolerate any interference from us, they’re more than willing to give us a kick in the butt if we try!”  
To Will’s sour glower, Geordi shrugged. “Believe me, sir; what we experienced was a kick in the butt! I’ve been going over the bits-and-pieces the computer managed to capture and I’ve gotta tell you, that ship was so far in advance of what we’d even consider high-tech…” he held up his hands in helplessness. “It makes the Enterprise look like a toy! If they’d wanted to…well, we wouldn’t be here having this little chat, I can assure you.”  
Will’s face sobered and he sighed. “How close?”  
Geordi knew he was referring to how close they came to destruction.  
“Seconds, Commander, seconds.”  
“And they knew, of course.” Will said sardonically.  
“Oh yeah, no doubt.”  
“Shit!” Will’s curse was muttered quietly, but it garnered a few looks from the bridge crew.  
“So, is there anything was can do?”  
Another shrug from Geordi made Will scowl again. “Not that I can see, Commander. Honestly, in my opinion we’re better off just waiting until the captain and Beverly come back. Who knows? They might know something.”  
“Yeah, they might.” Muttered Will darkly. “And on the other hand, they might not come back!”  
Seeing his commander was closing off again, Geordi rose stiffly and nodded. “Well, I’d best be getting back to engineering, sir. With your permission?”  
Will surprised the man by shaking his head. “No. Permission denied.”  
To Geordi’s confused look, Will summoned a warm smile. “Get some rest, Geordi. You’ve earned it.”  
“And what about you, Commander?”  
Another grunt preceded Will stretching out his long legs and rolling his shoulders. “I’ll stay up here a while longer. Who knows, I might be able to turn my eyes into phasers and fry those superior bastards from orbit!”  
Geordi’s soft chuckle warmed Will and as the man left, the residue of his humour stayed with Will for some time.

 

The three healers behind the console were studying their readouts intently. Precisely one hour had passed and they were no further to reaching their ultimate goal than when they’d begun. Their patient was lying sprawled on the floor, having succumbed to unconsciousness only ten minutes into the procedure.  
When the intense light had once again enveloped him, it took mere seconds for the pain to begin, but he bore it stoically. However as it increased so he began to lose the fight. Sweat coursed down his naked body, his screams of agony ignored and he began to shudder, every muscle he possessed tightening into a rigid rictus. It was merciful when his brain could no longer withstand the pain and he passed out, falling to the floor. The light raised and hovered just above his prone body only long enough for one of the healers to quickly move to him to better position his now senseless self. Having done that and once again back at the console, the light altered its dimensions to encompass all of his spread-eagled form.  
Beverly and the conscience watched on blindly, the twin with impassive calm, Beverly with almost hysterical panic as she heard the hideousness of her husband’s agony. At one stage she attacked the clear wall blindly, breaking her fingernails as she clawed ineffectively at its smooth surface in a useless attempt to get to him. The adviser closed the audio link, only to have Beverly screech her insistence that he reinstate it. Somehow she felt she could help her husband by sharing his unbearable suffering even if it meant she only heard him but not see him.  
It was Jean-Luc’s brother’s strong arms that took her, gently pulling her back. She refused to allow him to turn her away from the clear wall neither of them could see. Like the need to hear him, she also needed to face him, somehow sensing where he was as he’d done with her.  
The being to the right of the three lifted her hands and the other two turned to watch.  
“It has been over an hour now. I do not know how much more his body or his brain can withstand.”  
“Yes.” Agreed the middle being. “I too am very concerned. His bio readings are not stable.”  
“The essence will sustain him, but I do not know, should he survive, in what condition he will be in when the procedure reaches its end.”  
The being on the left sighed, his hands held up. “He has made it quite clear he wishes to be free of the infestation. We can do no less then abide by those wishes.”  
“Yes, but at what cost?” The middle of the three gestured. “Do we have the right to bring about the conclusion to satisfy his perception of his humanity?”  
“That is not our decision to make.” Gestured the right hand being. “If he feels less than fully human because of the infestation, then surely we have an obligation to assist him?”  
They all sighed and the middle being gestured to the console. “In a way, it is ironic. These nanites, though gross and inelegant by our standards, represent a level of technology that is almost sublime considering their creators. The Borg are not known for their subtlety.”  
“Indeed”, gestured the left of the three. “If they had not been redeemed by their creators, I have to wonder just how far they might have gone in their pursuit of perfection as they saw it.”  
Stretching out her arm, the female pointed at Jean-Luc’s body. “Perhaps he represents how far they had come? The ability to create the means then infect a living body as complex as a human with nanite technology at the sub-atomic level is remarkable.”  
“Agreed.” The right of the three nodded. “But that does not make our task any easier. The ability of the nanites to colonise his parthenogenic implant is complicating what is already a very difficult situation. I am not at all sure it can be salvaged in a state we can repair. I feel it best we create a new one.”  
“That would be the most uncomplicated solution.” The female gestured. “Should we create a more sophisticated organ? Or one that is indistinguishable from his original organ, artificial or organic?”  
“I am not sure.” Said the left of the three. “I will have to seek clarification from the conscience.”  
The female made a curt gesture. “But wait! Should the conscience be asked to make such a judgment when it concerns his own brother?”  
The three looked helplessly at each other until the right male shook his head and pointed at Jean-Luc. “He is dying. Our simulations tell us the nanites are withdrawing from his cells, But it will be some time before we can successfully remove them completely from his body. Without a replacement cardiac organ, he will not survive. The one he has now is already insufficient for the task. The nanites are leaving it at a faster rate than the rest of his body and the resulting damage to the organ is making it all but useless.”  
Making a unilateral decision, the female went to the screen and lifted her hands. In the room the adviser watched as she gestured and sighed as he knew he would have to ask his friend and conscience to make a judgement on his brother’s life.  
With a touch of an invisible, at least to a human’s eyes, tab, the clear wall darkened until it was black. With a gentle tug on his sleeve, the adviser let the conscience know he could remove the eye shield. He blinked in mild surprise at seeing the room lit only by the soft ambient light emanating from his friend, but before he asked for any clarification, he carefully removed Beverly’s shield. She looked at the now blank wall in panic and confusion. The man gripped her upper arm, saying firmly, “Beverly, do not panic. My adviser needs to speak with me. As soon as I know what he has said, I will tell you.”  
With no option but to do her best to control her ragged emotions, Beverly’s head jerked up and down as she silently agreed. The conscience moved a little way off to one side and waited as his friend’s hands made their intricate dance of words.  
The soft glow from the screen on his sleeve cast a bluish tinge over his patrician features. As he read his brow lowered and he would’ve closed his eyes if not for the fact he had to keep reading.  
Finally he sighed, nodded to the adviser and went back to Beverly. She looked at him and a soft sob escaped her at the sad and troubled look in the man’s eyes.  
“My healers have asked me to form a judgement. As things are now, it is not known if he will survive the procedure and even if he does, they cannot accurately predict in what condition, either physically or mentally or both he might be left in. But the immediate problem is his parthenogenic heart. It must be replaced…now. Their question is whether or not to supply him with an identical artificial organ, an organic organ or something far more sophisticated.” He stopped, briefly closed his eyes and sighed. “Or…”

“Don’t do anything at all.” Whispered Beverly. In a stronger tone she said, “Do I have a say in this?” She tried to keep the hard sarcasm out of her voice but was only partially successful. The conscience’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t rise to the bait.  
“As his one, of course you do.”  
Beverly smile was cold. “Yes. But it’s you who’ll decide, no matter what I say.”  
Angrily the conscience spun and punched the wall, startling the adviser and shocking Beverly. With his head turned to glare hotly at Beverly he bared his teeth. “What do you expect from me?!” He shouted. “I am the conscience. It is my task to make these kinds of decisions! Why do you think I was asked?!”  
Staying calm in the face of his naked fury, Beverly said quietly, “Do you think you’re qualified to make a judgement over whether or not you permit your bother to live?”  
The man seemed to slump, his shoulders sagged and his head bowed. “Il n′est pas si simple.” He said softly.  
No,” Agreed, Beverly sadly. “It’s not that simple, it never is.”  
The conscience folded his arms across his chest, but his right hand rose to rub his fingers over his lower lip. The sight was too much for Beverly who closed her eyes lest she break down at seeing such a familiar gesture.  
“If I allow him to receive a new cardiac organ, what would be your recommendation? A new organic organ, an identical artificial organ or something more sophisticated?”  
He was shocked when Beverly said flatly, “What difference will it make?”  
“What?” He asked incredulously. “Qu′est-çe que ca veut dire?”  
Too drained and too grief stricken to even bother trying to translate, Beverly merely stared at the man. Impatiently he repeated himself. “What is that supposed to mean?”  
Leaning back until her back bumped against the wall, Beverly shrugged. “If he’s left disabled in any way, he won’t want to live, so giving him a whizz-bang high tech heart or even an ordinary organic one isn’t going to make much difference, is it. If he’s got any self-awareness and can understand he is permanently disabled and only alive because of his new heart, he’s not going to want to live anyway.”  
“Then what do I do?” Asked a now shaken conscience.  
Shrugging again, Beverly made no effort to keep her disdain from her voice as she said, “Don’t ask me. This is what you were chosen for!”  
She turned her back on him then, no longer able to look into eyes that were, to all intents and purposes, her husband’s. She heard the short, angry expulsion of air through his nose and even though she couldn’t see him, Beverly knew exactly what his expression would be.  
The adviser also knew as soon as he saw the look on the conscience’s face. His brother would get a new heart, what sort he would soon discover.

 

The three healers watched the screen as the text appeared.  
“My brother wishes to be rid of the nanite infiltration of his body, but his one has informed me as did he, that he would rather die than live with the infiltration. It is a difficult choice, but I have come to a judgement. My brother is the man he is because of many and varied factors, including physical ones. I do not know why he has an artificial heart, but it is integral to who and what he is. For that reason I believe we should not alter him unduly. Replace the parthenogenic heart he now has with an identical unit. If, on being rid of the infiltration he survives, but is left disabled and unwilling to continue his life you are authorised to assist in his conclusion.”  
His face was stony as he read the reply. “It will be as you wish.”  
Beverly’s quiet voice showed none of her grief and sorrow. “I suppose it was the only choice you could make and given we both know Jean-Luc’s wishes, your decision was fair.”  
The conscience turned slowly and regarded Beverly with a measured look. “Weighing the ramifications of my decisions is part of what and who I am. At my stage of life, if I could not function in this instance, my position as the conscience would be untenable.”  
Beverly’s expression hardened. “So it was just a purely logical judgement, no personal feelings involved?”  
The man bowed his head and sighed. “I would be lying if I said I had no personal motives, but I had to put them in the context of the petition, just as I would take into account the societal expectations of my people and how that impacts on the law, which always has been and always will be, absolute. Finding a solution is not often easy, but that is my function.”  
Beverly’s smile was tight, her eyes glittering with anger. “So you saw this as a balancing act?” She snorted; her expression one of utter disgust. “Where you marry your peoples’ societal expectations with the law, so you blended Jean-Luc’s wishes with your personal feelings.” She shook her head, her hands fisting. “But you gave yourself a nice safe out, didn’t you.”  
Narrowing his eyes, the conscience tilted his head and said with suppressed anger, “What is that supposed to mean?”  
“Well.” Beverly said, waving one hand. “We all know about the underlying problem you have with your brother…the Prime Directive problem. How convenient would it be if he’s left disabled? You got off the moral hook by permitting the replacement heart, but then invoked Jean-Luc’s own insistence that he wouldn’t tolerate living if he was at all disabled! Now that’s a very neat solution to the problem, isn’t it? It’s a win-win for you.”  
Folding his arms across his chest, the conscience stared stonily at Beverly. “An interesting interpretation, Beverly, but you have not taken into account what will happen if Jean-Luc survives intact, both physically and mentally.” He smiled but there was no warmth in the expression. “I would find myself…”he frowned, trying to find the right words in standard. Giving up, he said them in French. “Retour à la case départ.”  
Raising her eyebrows, Beverly snorted sardonically. “Back to square one? Yes, I suppose you would, but you’d be there, sitting on the moral high ground, Jean-Luc knowing he owed you his life.”  
“He would only know that, Beverly, if you told him, because I have no intention of doing so, not now or in the future.”  
Shaking her head, Beverly almost spat her words. “You’re still hedging your bets!”  
“Meaning what?!” shouted the conscience.  
“He’ll never know if you saved him or if you caused him to be in a position of wanting to die!”  
They stood almost toe-to-toe, each glaring at the other. The adviser, who had been listening to the increasingly hostile exchange, had kept most of his attention on the screen. His gentle tug at the conscience’s sleeve broke the icy connection between the two humans. Jean-Luc’s twin went to the screen and read, his face grim.  
He looked over his shoulder and said tightly. “It is done. A new identical parthenogenic heart beats in his chest and the nanites have begun to leave his body. We will know very soon in what condition he will be left in when the procedure is complete.”  
“Can I see him?”  
Shaking his head, making his braid swing ponderously, the conscience said with restrained civility, “I am afraid the essence would be too intense. However you may watch some of what is happening through a filtered image on this screen.”  
Not wishing to be near him, but having no choice as he refused to move, Beverly stood by the man’s side and directed her gaze at the flat surface of the screen, doing her best to ignore his close proximity. As they watched, the adviser wondered briefly at what emotions each human was feeling. On some level, he thought, they would share the same feelings, but the differences in their concerns for the man undergoing the procedure were so diverse…he gave a mental shrug. It was out of his hands, indeed, it was even out of the conscience’s hands. Whatever happened from that time on would guide the conscience in how he was to deal with the consequences and ramifications of his decisions. As it had always been.

 

It had taken Beverly a few minutes to become accustomed to making out what she was seeing. The light was so pure and bright even with the filtering, the image she was seeing was gently distorted, but she soon discerned Jean-Luc’s naked, spread-eagled form and it took a great deal of concentration before she finally saw the surface of his skin very gently shivering.  
At first she assumed it was an atavistic reaction of his body; even in its unconscious state to the too cool temperature of the room, but the man standing beside her obviously saw the same thing because he asked his adviser, “Why is his skin…tremblant?”  
His eyes went to his screen and as he read he sensed Beverly moving closer so she too could read the reply.  
“He trembles because the nanites are gathering en masse under the surface of his skin.”  
Alarmed, Beverly blurted out, “Don’t tell me they’re going to burst out of him all at once!”  
“No.” the text scrolled. “The healers have informed me they will leave in microscopic layers…waves, if you will, and as they are easily tiny enough to exit through the pores of his skin in great numbers, that is how they will leave him.”  
The conscience shook his head, his braid gently bumping Beverly’s hip. “Your calculation of the amount of atoms in an average human body was staggering.”  
“Yes”, sighed Beverly. “But I don’t think you truly understand the scope of his…infestation.”  
He turned his attention away from his brother and regarded Beverly thoughtfully. If she was aware of his scrutiny she ignored it, keeping her eyes fixed on the screen.  
“Enlighten me.”  
There was no trace of sarcasm, indeed his tone was one of genuine interest and concern.  
“Well…” Beverly pulled her lips to one side, gathering the information in her mind, grateful in a way to be able to momentarily distract herself. “Let’s look at molecules. A single molecule equals 6.023x1023, known as Avogadro’s number and that is the number of atoms with a mass that equals the atomic weight of the element or in other words, the molecular weight of a molecule. So, if we say there’re roughly 2.3x1013 molecules per cell, about 23 trillion, and approximately 6x1014-16 trillion- cells in an average human body…and I have to point out here that there’s an enormous variation in the size of the cells, from the tiny cells of, say the cerebellum, to the relatively huge cells that make up DNA, then a very rough calculation of the number of molecules in an average human body alone is 10x1027, which is one thousand, trillion, trillion molecules.”  
The conscience digested that then his face showed his dawning understanding. “And my brother’s infestation is at the sub atomic level.”  
“Yes.” sighed Beverly. She then held up her hand. “And no, I can’t even begin to try to supply the figures for that.”  
“Our healers will know.” He said absently.  
“Mmm, I suppose they will.” Looking at the man for the first time in a while, Beverly asked softly, “How far does your peoples’ technology go? Do they possess nanite technology like this?”  
She was gesturing to the screen and the conscience’s expression changed. Beverly sighed and waved away her question with an irritated swipe. “Don’t bother; I can see you won’t answer me.”  
Taking a deep breath, the man said quietly, “My peoples’ technology transcended nanites aeons ago. They have something that performs a similar task, but is entirely organic and of course contains the essence.”  
Her eyes lighting up with intense interest, Beverly said in hushed awe, “You introduce life forms to make repairs?”  
The man’s smile was an indulgent one. “Hardly a life form, Beverly. It is part of the essence, therefore part of my people. I suppose it is analogous in a very gross sense to your cloning. The end result is indistinguishable from the original.”  
Her eyes drifting back to her husband, she could see his skin was still trembling. Her focus was intensifying when she perceived a softly asked question, but she had to ask Jean-Luc’s twin to repeat it. He smiled his understanding.  
“How did he lose his original organic heart?”  
Keeping her gaze on the screen, Beverly smile was rueful and sad. “The indiscretions of youth.”  
The conscience waited for more, but Beverly had again lapsed into silence. He prompted her gently. “You cannot leave it at that.”  
“Hmm?” She hummed absently, then realised what she’d done. Taking a deep breath, she elaborated. “Believe it or not, Jean-Luc wasn’t always so…controlled…so…buttoned up.”  
Seeing his confusion, Beverly quickly sought other words in her patchy French.  
“Um…” she rolled her hand as the words came to her. “Attentivement sobre et réflechié.”  
“Ah, oui! Carefully restrained and thoughtful.”  
Nodding her head, Beverly smiled. “Yes. In his youth he was a cocky, self absorbed, puerile young man interested more in sexual conquests and getting into trouble than growing up.”  
The conscience frowned, his eyes narrowing. “I understand self-absorbed and puerile…but cocky?”  
“Oh..um…well it’s like arrogant, but more…cheeky?”  
“Cheeky.” The word was said with plain incomprehension. Snapping her fingers, Beverly said triumphantly, “Effronté.”  
The smile that spread across the man’s face forced an involuntary snort of amusement from the doctor.  
“So,” Mused the conscience. “This gouaille…this cheekiness caused him to lose his heart?”  
“Uh huh. Are you aware of a species called Naussican?’  
The man pursed his lips and shook his head. “No.”  
“Ah. Well they’re kinda belligerent and Jean-Luc, just graduated from the Academy and at a star base awaiting his first posting as a brand-new ensign, got into a fight with three Naussicans, they’re huge, by-the-way and he was unarmed. Apparently he was doing quite well, you know, holding his own, but one of the three drew a large serrated knife and stabbed Jean-Luc through the back. The blade pierced his heart.”  
“And it could not be repaired?”  
“No…” said Beverly thoughtfully. “I suppose had he been on Earth, close to SFM they might’ve been able to at least attempt it, but as it was, he was lucky the base had a sick bay that not only had a parthenogenic replacement available, but the medical personnel at hand capable to do the necessary surgery. He was damned lucky.”  
The man looked at his brother and sighed. “Your medical technology has done an admiral job. The unit has functioned well all this time.”  
“Not so well as it turned out.” By the rueful tone, the conscience knew there was more to this particular story. To his raised eyebrow, another expression that forcibly clenched Beverly’s own heart, she continued.

“About nine, maybe ten years ago it was found the original implant was malfunctioning. He had it replaced, but not without some drama. If not for the fact that the then CMO of the Enterprise could get to him quickly he wouldn’t have survived.”  
“So…” The man tilted his head. “He was not on his ship…and you were not there?”  
“No. I had taken the position as head of SFM. I was on Earth.”  
“I see. Ah…SFM?”  
“Oh! Sorry, Star Fleet Medical. I only stayed for a year then I returned to the Enterprise as her CMO. Chief medical Officer.” She elaborated with a smile.  
His smile widened, his eyes twinkling. “Most prominent healer.”  
That brought a self-depreciating chuckle. “On the ship, perhaps, but certainly not at SFM or the Federation for that matter…far from it.”  
“Yet you accomplished the task for which you were summoned.”  
Sighing, Beverly offered a shrug. “I’m not sure of that. I’ve not had an update of any sort about your children. I have absolutely no idea how they’re progressing if indeed they’re progressing at all.”  
“They are.” He said gently. “Already they are beginning to tolerate soft sounds. My healers estimate they will be able to return to us very soon.”  
Beverly’s smile was one of relief and not a little pride. “Well that is good news.”  
They stood in silence for a while, watching Jean-Luc. The conscience’s soft, rumbling voice once again encroached on Beverly’s focus.  
“Can you tell me what you mean by…sexual conquests? Does that mean my brother conquered his ones? That he…maîtrisé them?”  
Shaking her head and making a curt gesture with her hand, Beverly said with a trace of impatience, “No, not mastered. It means he was more interested in the physical aspect of the sexual act than in developing an emotional attachment or component with his partner, who was not, by-the-way, his one.”  
She chanced a glance at the twin and saw his confusion. Sighing she went on to a further explanation. “Young humans, especially in their late teens and early adulthood are often very cavalier and promiscuous…” At his yet again look of incomprehension, Beverly cast about, shaking one hand impatiently, willing the right word to appear in her mind. Her face brightened when it finally surfaced. “Promiscuité.” The conscience nodded his understanding. “Where it comes to sex. Rather than seek a lasting relationship, they prefer to have casual ones or no relationship at all, just a willing partner to share a purely physical act and mostly the more the better. The wish to form a lasting relationship…settling down…comes with maturity. That change in Jean-Luc occurred as a direct result of losing his heart. It forced him to confront his past behaviour and the reasons behind it and he realised he didn’t like what he found. Credit has to be given to him to make such fundamental changes at such an early age and to not only his lifestyle, but his very life philosophy, because it made him the remarkable, extraordinary man he is today.”  
“An interesting view of a complex being.”  
“That’s a little cold, isn’t it?” said Beverly angrily. “He’s not some lab experiment, you know. He’s your brother!”  
The conscience’s smile was kind. “You misunderstand me, Beverly. I was comparing his early life with mine. I did not have the opportunity to…express…my inner yearnings, although I doubt I felt them as my brother did. My first sexual experiences occurred simply as a consequence of self exploration. My adviser and my parents explained to me the purpose of my body’s ability to do what it did and the reason it was so pleasurable, but it wasn’t until I joined sexually with my one that I first experienced the…profondeur? of the act.”  
Beverly smiled and offered the translation, letting him know he had chosen the right word. “Profundity. How old were you?” Asked Beverly softly.  
“I was in my mid twenties, and I was not prepared for the emotional intimacy. In fact I recall being frightened by it. I felt too vulnerable. In my position as the conscience, I have to be apart, forever separated from my people. If not for that separation, I could not perform my task. The tremendous intimacy, the emotional bond that that single act waked in me affected me so profoundly I considered severing my relationship with my one.”  
“Yet you didn’t.”  
“No.” He sighed wistfully. “I was in love with her then as I remain so today. Parting from her was impossible. I had to learn to overcome my fears and to make a separation between my position and my relationship, which of course, grew to become a family.”  
“You are even more like your bother than you realise.”  
She ignored his querying eyebrow and chose the moment to see if she could glean some more information about his people.  
“So…if you don’t mind some personal questions…how did you and your one…?”  
His smile stayed in place, but his eyes hardened. “You are referring no doubt to our anatomical differences?”  
“Yes and more. You’ve already told me your healers have been required to assist in the reproduction of offspring between the conscience and his one covering many varying species for a very long time.”  
“That is true. As for anatomical differences, I cannot give you a comparison as I am unfamiliar with human female anatomy, having never seen one. Because of my one’s intense glow during this time, I have to wear my eye shield, so I am without sight. My one guides me. All I can say is that we are…compatible. We both experience intense physical and emotional pleasure. As I have previously stated, it is a profound expression of both our mutual love and devotion.  
“The…” Like Beverly, he rolled his hand, searching for the correct word. “Con…” He quickened the motion of his hand.  
“Conception?” Offered Beverly.  
“Yes. The conception of our children was brought about by the healers. Once my one and I had decided to reproduce, my one was...fait prête?”  
“Made ready. Prepared.”  
This time he just nodded. “Once she was in the correct state and we…l′amour fait?”  
Beverly smiled tenderly, saying softly, “Made love.”  
“Whatever it was the healers had done worked. And then at intervals of three months, another conception occurred, until my one carried within her four developing children.” His face had taken on an enthusiastic expression, one Beverly had seen many times on his brother’s face when talking about something dear to his heart. “The gestation period of my people differs from humans, but the children’s hybridism was taken into account. It was engineered so that our children were born one at a time, three months apart. Their development was tailored to compensate for this so as to lessen the physical burden on my one.”  
“And the gender? Were you given the option of choosing?”  
“We were, but we decided to leave it to chance as it was irrelevant. Our children would never reproduce so it did not matter.” Beverly savagely quashed the protests that teetered on her tongue. “My people do though. At times to redress a naturally occurring predisposition for gender imbalance, they will occasionally balance a generation’s gender quotient so as to preserve the genetic diversity required for a healthy population. But the healers tell me that their predictions are that in the not-too-distant future; my people will evolve to a level when the physical manifestation of their being will no longer be necessary.” The conscience’s expression was one of reverential awe. “At that time they will transcend and exist as nothing but pure thought and be able to inhabit everything, everywhere at once.”  
His gave himself a mental shake and sighed. “Their physical selves have already reached the point where evolution can go no further. Once they integrated with the essence they became something quite extraordinary and it set them on an irrevocable path of the inevitable transcendence.”  
Tilting her head, Beverly was careful to keep her tone neutral. “And then they won’t need a conscience any more.”  
His smile showed her he understood the tacit reminder of the ever-present problem.  
“True enough. But until that time comes…”  
“Yes.” She said softly, “Until then.”  
The intense light surrounding Jean-Luc lessened somewhat, but not enough to allow the humans to dispense with the filtered screen. They were however better able to see the prone man. It was Beverly’s trained physician’s eyes that saw the difference.  
“He’s not trembling any more.”  
“No,” agreed the conscience. Turning to his adviser, he saw the being’s hands were raised. The man’s eyes went straight to his screen. “The nanites have been successfully removed.”  
Stepping closer to the filtered image on the screen, Beverly placed her hands on each side, bending slightly to try and get a better view.  
“How is he?” She barked urgently.  
The conscience kept his eyes on his sleeve screen. “His body has responded well to the process however his nervous system has been compromised.”  
Before Beverly could articulate her alarm, the man held up one hand. “It can be repaired.”  
“His brain…his higher functions?” Beverly’s voice had taken on a clipped professional crispness, her way of dealing with her fear.  
“Wait.”  
The filtered image Beverly had been staring at so intently abruptly winked off. Gasping in shock, Beverly took an involuntary step back, but was just as startled when the black wall suddenly reverted to clear. Stepping quickly up to it and placing her hands flat upon its cool surface, she watched as two healers knelt beside her husband. One placed a hand on his forehead, the other, holding something too small for Beverly to see, passed its hand the full length of Jean-Luc’s body and lingered a short time at his head. The being that had its hand on Jean-Luc’s forehead lifted its hands and half turned its body, obviously gesturing to someone out of sight. Text began to scroll across the screen to Beverly’s left.  
“The infiltration of the brain has left some residual damage, but we feel confident we can redress the problem. His neural pathways are not yet carrying the electrical impulses as they should, but again, we feel that can be remedied. Of more concern are the major neural bundles throughout his body. There has been significant disruption to the connective pathways. It will require intensive work to restore both function and sensation to these areas.”  
“So…” Beverly’s eyes clouded in thought. “His main sensory centres aren’t functioning. Okay…what about higher functions? Speech, thought…”  
She got no further. She stopped mid-sentence to read. “We suspect all his higher functions will respond to our treatment.”  
“Suspect?” Snapped Beverly sharply. “Are you sure or not?”  
“We were not responsible for your one being in need of this procedure, Doctor. We are doing all we can in a situation that, although is within our capabilities, is not within our experience. We offer all we have…all we can do. We are confident, Doctor.”  
Although still angry and terribly stressed, Beverly had to admire the way the gentle admonishment seemed to be heard as well as read. She took a calming breath and bowed her head. “I understand, you have my apologies. When may I see him?”  
“Soon.”  
“I take it you’re not going to leave him lying on the floor.”  
“You are correct, of course. He will be taken to a place where we can continue to treat him. He will be safe and comfortable.”  
Beverly was struggling to keep her voice steady. “And there’ll be no more pain?”  
“No. No more pain. That was regrettable, but such was the nature of his infestation it was unavoidable.”  
Fisting her hands, Beverly asked what she knew was basically a rhetorical question. “You had no analgesia?”  
The healers answered anyway.  
“We did, but it was inappropriate to use in this instance. We knew that having reached a certain point, the essence would assist his brain to…shut down?”  
“But not before he experienced unspeakable agony.” Beverly said sarcastically, then immediately regretted her words. Before she could apologise, the conscience gently gripped her elbow. “It is time we left this room. Jean-Luc will be taken soon, we can wait elsewhere…somewhere more…à l′aise?”  
“Comfortable.” Beverly summoned a weary, worried smile. “That sounds nice, merci.”  
He smiled at her use of French and ushered her from the room. Beverly didn’t seem him leave, but the adviser didn’t accompany them.  
Their journey was relatively short and Beverly quickly realised she was now within the living area of the complex. The room was sparsely furnished, something she was becoming accustomed to, but nevertheless it was comfortable, just as her husband’s brother had said it would be.  
She even detected the slight rise in the temperature of the room. As always, one wall offered a view of the dark, frozen land with the ubiquitous wind-driven lumps of ice smashing silently into obliteration against the outside surface. The floor covering was thicker and softer and the lighting more subtle.  
Taking a seat on a sofa-like piece of furniture at the conscience’s gesture, Beverly watched as he sat beside her and said quietly, “Two hot drac.”  
The drinking vessels that miraculously and silently appeared on the low table in front of them were steaming. Following his lead, Beverly picked hers up, blew on the dark liquid’s surface and took an experimental sip. It was very tart, but not unpleasant, the aftertaste leaving an unusual spicy warmth all over the inside of her mouth. The man beside her took a long sip, closed his eyes and obviously savoured swallowing. He opened his eyes, smiled and lifted the vessel.  
“Drac. It’s very calming. I find even inhaling the aroma has a beneficial effect on me.”  
Taking another tentative sip, Beverly swallowed and said cautiously, “There’re no…narcotics…no…pharmaceuticals in it is there?”  
His smile grew, but there was a hint of condescension in it. “My people have not allowed such mind or body altering substances for aeons. No…” He took another long swallow. “This is a simple relaxing…boissons.”  
Feeling more confident and actually beginning to enjoy the brew, Beverly grinned. “What is it with you Picards and your beverages?”  
That made the man raise his eyebrow. Shaking her head, Beverly sat back, finally allowing herself to relax a little. “Jean-Luc has a favourite boissons too. His beverage of choice is a tea called Earl Grey. He drinks copious amounts of it, hot, no sweetener and no milk. If I had a bar of gold pressed latinum for every time I’ve heard him say, “Tea, Earl Grey, hot.” I’d be able to buy out the Ferengi Board of Commerce!”  
The twin chuckled and drank some more. “While I do not even pretend I understand everything you just said, I am pleased my brother finds comfort in such a simple thing as a cup of tea.”  
Beverly’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve heard the expression before?”  
Caught out, the man flushed slightly. “Since meeting my brother, I have become…curious. Our archives are very comprehensive. The thoughts and remembrances of consciences past, those taken as older people were recorded and that term…cup of tea has come up more than once, but it was not until you said the word tea that I put the two together. I can only assume a cup is a particular type of drinking vessel?”  
Beverly nodded, intrigued by this information. “Yes it is, but…”  
He smiled, immediately sensing her unspoken question. “You have noticed the…lacunes…the…gaps…in my speech.”  
Beverly merely nodded. The conscience sighed. “When you are taught two languages by people not fully familiar with them, it is inevitable that not all the words of each language are going to be learned. I have words in both languages for a drinking vessel, but not cup. Like so much about myself, I only know what my parents, tutors and later my adviser and healers told me.” He smiled ruefully and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “There are gaps it would seem, in much about me.”  
Sadness warred with a desperate need to help this man. Moving a little closer, Beverly caught his eyes, quelling the surge of emotion at looking into eyes so familiar.  
“If you allow it, we can fill in those gaps…those lacunes.”  
“To what end, Beverly?” He sighed, bowing his head and staring into his now empty mug. “It will not help. I have been this way all my life and until I knew of my brother’s existence I had never given any thought to being anything other than, primarily the conscience and secondarily one to my one and father to my children. What possible good could come from learning more than I already know? That alone has caused me terrible anguish. To learn more would do what?”  
He spread his arms wide. “Me faire abandoner tout ce que j′ai jamais connu? Ma position? Mon seul? Ma famille? Mon peuple?”  
Beverly held up her hands and the agitated man was about to translate but Beverly shook her head. “No! Let me have a go at this. You’re asking if learning more about your humanity…yourself, would…make you abandon everything…you have ever…known?”  
At his silent nod, Beverly continued. “Your position. Your one. Your family.” She sighed sadly and finished. “Your people.”  
“Oui.”  
“I don’t know what to say…in either language.” Defeat coloured Beverly’s voice and the conscience strove to ease her. “Do not trouble yourself, Beverly. From the moment I met Jean-Luc, this…” he snorted softly. “Problem was bound to surface. It is something I and I alone must come to terms with.”  
An uncomfortable silence descended before the conscience broke it by saying in a gently amused tone, “You must have more questions.”  
Summoning a smile, more for his benefit than hers, Beverly nodded. “I do indeed.”  
“Then while we have the time…allez-y.”  
“Go right ahead? Oh God, how many times have I wished an alien culture would’ve said that to me!”  
They shared a soft chuckle before Beverly sobered. “Okay…from what I learned during my…journey…through your peoples’ history I know that your peoples’ DNA is now so unique it hardly falls into the category of a simple, although I use that term as a gross understatement, genetic blueprint for building life. Can you tell me more?”  
Sitting back for the first time, Beverly briefly closed her eyes when he crossed his legs in precisely the same way Jean-Luc did. He even rested his hands, one still holding the empty mug the same way, resting in his lap.  
“Well as a doctor I do not have to describe DNA as you known it.”  
Beverly nodded; a small smile evident at his attempt to keep the mood light. “My peoples’ DNA isn’t.”  
Frowning, Beverly tilted her head. “Isn’t? Isn’t what?”  
“DNA.”  
“Then what is it?”  
His smile widened as he anticipated what impact his next words would have.  
“A life form.”  
“No!” said Beverly incredulously. Then, as her eyes darted to and fro in rapid thought, she suddenly snapped her fingers. “You told me your people can’t evolve any further…at least not physically! It’s the essence! Isn’t it?!”  
“Yes.” He was grinning now, his eyebrows raised. “It is so elegant, Beverly. A life within a life, sustained by the same mixture of life in an unending cycle.”  
“And now that it’s self-sustaining…”  
“There is no more need of the body.”  
“My god…” whispered Beverly, only now fully grasping the implications of such a unique emergence of new life. Before she could say anything further, the man beside her gently took her hand, drawing her eyes to his steady gaze.  
“You have often mentioned God…Dieu. Jean-Luc, in his discussions with me about our family history and Earth’s history, mentioned religion. I recognise the words, but I do not understand them. And you mentioned apostles when you told me the meanings of his names. Can you explain these things to me?”  
“Oh God…where do I start?” Realising what she’d just said, Beverly shook her head and offered a rueful smile. “You know it’s silly really. Those words…God and Dieu which mean the same thing as I’m sure you know, are holdovers, words that once had significant meaning but are now just words we use with little or no thought.” She chuckled and shook her head again. “This is going to be difficult to believe, but there once was a time, a very long time ago on Earth, where if you said those words in the wrong way, you could be tortured or killed.”  
To the man’s shocked expression, Beverly nodded. “It’s true! It was called blasphemy.” She took a deep breath and proceeded to give the conscience an abbreviated explanation of religion. He was left shaking his head in disbelief.  
“And you say all that began with ancient humans giving supernatural connotations to things simply to explain that which they were incapable of understanding?”  
“Yep. You have to keep in mind that humans are intrinsically curious, the need to satisfy that inherent curiosity has led us to where we are now, but conversely it has led us to some disastrous behaviour and ways of thinking. But as we evolved, we slowly left behind the superstitions and the need to accept a higher power and take responsibility for our lives and our actions.”  
The conscience sighed, shaking his head in wonder. He shifted slightly, using his free hand to ease the end of his braid from under his buttock.  
“And so all these references… Dieu and so on are just…habit?”  
“Yes.”  
“And no one still believes?”  
“Oh yes, there are those who wish to believe in the existence of a supreme being and that’s fine, but for the most part, Earth and most worlds of the Federation are wholly secular.”  
Seeing confusion again, Beverly clarified, “Laїques? Um, no religion.”  
“Ah, yes, I see.”  
“You know, your human parents believed and your older brother, although secular, married a woman of faith.”  
“Really?” said an obviously amused man.  
“Yes. They belonged to the UCE. The Uniting Church of Earth. It’s not exactly uncommon in the more rural areas of Earth to find people with some kind of faith, but is nothing like the faiths of old. It’s a very generalised concept now, and I must say, unifying for those who choose to belong. But where once those who believed were often compelled to draw others to their beliefs or try to affect non-believers with their concepts, no such things happen now. Faith is a very personal thing and really is quite rare within Earth’s population.”  
“And what of you and Jean-Luc?”  
“Secular, both of us.”  
The conscience let his head rest on the back of the padded seat, moving his head to ease the tension of his braid. “I find the whole idea of supreme beings understandable in a way.”  
Curious, Beverly tilted her head. “How so?”  
Holding the mug in one hand, he gestured with the other. “Well, look at what my people will soon become. Being everywhere and everything at once. Is that not God-like?”  
“Yes.” sighed Beverly. “I suppose it is. In fact what we’ve seen of them and their abilities makes them almost worthy of our reverence.”  
That made the man snort, his wry glance letting Beverly know her gentle jibe had been accepted in the spirit in which it had been given.  
Beverly said quietly, “You say soon. How soon?”  
“Until my people become nothing but pure thought?” The man frowned and turning his head; staring out into the darkness. “I am not sure. Soon is a relative term for my people. It may mean in ten years or a millennia. For a species that have existed as long as they have, time is of little importance.”  
The door slid silently open and the adviser stepped into the room. The conscience didn’t bother to look at his screen. Taking Beverly’s hand he assisted her to her feet, saying, “We can see Jean-Luc now.”  
As they left the room, butterflies the size of emus took flight in Beverly’s stomach.

 

Jean-Luc’s eyes were closed. A small smile graced his relaxed face. A light covering of stubble covered his cheeks, under his nose, his chin and neck and he was still naked and uncovered, although he was lying on a softly padded bed and the room temperature had been raised a little.  
He sighed, the taste in his mouth bringing forth deeply embedded memories, long ago encoded and never before accessed. His mother’s milk was warm and sweet and the accompanying feelings of security and comfort flooded his psyche as she crooned to him, leaving him profoundly contented and at peace. “Mon cher fils peu.” Her voice gently embraced his outer body as her milk filled him within.  
Beverly stood silently at his side, the urge to speak to or even touch her husband almost irresistible to deny, but her instructions had been explicit. On the other side of the bed stood Jean-Luc’s brother, his expression unreadable as his eyes gazed intently down.  
Picking up movement, Beverly noticed Jean-Luc’s hands curling, his thumbs going under his fingers in an immature fist. Then slowly his wrists curled inwards and inched up until his closed, curved hands rested on his hirsute chest.  
When his eyes opened she was not prepared for the astonishing lack of awareness in them. If she had to describe what she saw, the only thing she could say was all she could see was pure innocence. Certainly there was no trace of her beloved Jean-Luc in those hazel eyes, nor did he appear to see her or anything else. Panicked, Beverly shot an urgent look at the conscience, but he seemed to be somehow serene, completely untroubled by what he must have seen, but either chose to ignore, or lacked the ability to respond.  
With growing alarm, Beverly turned, seeking out a healer. Fortunately one was nearby. She came to Beverly and without having to be asked, the conscience joined them. The healer’s hands performed their mysterious invisible dance and the twin sighed. Keeping in mind the need for silence, Beverly read from the offered screen on his sleeve.  
“He is in a very safe place within his mind. We have placed him there while we effect our repairs to his brain. At the moment he feels safe, secure and at peace.”  
To Beverly’s earnest look, the text scrolled,  
“He feels nothing in the way of discomfort.”  
Again her piercing gaze seemed to impart her unspoken questions.  
“We envisage he will be capable of speech very soon, but we hasten to warn you he will not, initially, be as you remember.”  
Beverly’s eyes snapped up, then just as quickly went back to the screen.  
“We ask that you remain calm. Although his condition will be…unsettling, it will be transitory. Given time…perhaps a day or two, we are confident his higher functions will be completely restored. He will sleep often and for long periods of time. As for the neural bundles, that is going to take more intensive treatment and if you desire, we welcome your input.”  
Nodding enthusiastically, the healer acknowledged Beverly’s agreement with a small bow but the accompanying radiance from the being made both humans screw their eyes shut. It wasn’t until Beverly chanced to peek that she saw Jean-Luc’s brother had laid one large, gentle hand across his twin’s open eyes. She smiled her thanks and looked down at her husband, noting the serenity of his expression mirrored that of his brother’s previous state. She wondered, as her gaze never left Jean-Luc’s face, just what, if anything, the twins might have shared.

It was three long hours before a dazed Beverly was brought out of her stupor to the soft sound of Jean-Luc’s whispered voice. Not knowing if she could yet speak to him, she bent to put her ear close to his mouth. He was repeating the same sentence over and over.  
“Mon cher fils peu.”  
She lifted her head, her eyes misting with tears. The conscience had heard the soft words and his expression was oddly closed. “My dear little son.” Thought Beverly. What are you thinking about, my love? A child of ours…or…your mother’s? Did she say that to you when you were little, Jean-Luc? The healer…she said you were in a safe place…that you felt safe, secure and at peace. Are you with your mother, Jean-Luc? How old are you, mon coeur?”  
With no answers to her questions, all Beverly could do was continue to wait. The occasional glances at Jean-Luc’s brother only confused her. Since hearing the softly spoken endearment, he had remained closed and Beverly sensed an almost hostile aura around the man. But, despite whatever he may be feeling, the man wouldn’t leave his brother. Beverly found his actions commendable, but her cynical side had to wonder if he was acting on his own agenda. The Prime Directive problem hadn’t gone away, indeed, as it seemed more and more likely that Jean-Luc would make a complete recovery; it was pushing further to the forefront.  
Time wended its way inexorably forward, minutes morphing seamlessly into hours. When Jean-Luc spoke again, Beverly was wrenched out of her semi-sleep state and into full wakefulness.  
“Je suis maman faim et je veux aller à la toilette.”  
Beverly got the gist of what he’d said and was about to summon a healer when one appeared at her side. The conscience glanced at his screen and spoke, but softly and in French.  
“On peut parler maintenant, mais doucement et en française. Il ne comprendra pas la norme.”  
Holding up her hand to gain a little time, Beverly thought hard. “Okay…Jean-Luc said…I am hungry mom and I need to go to the toilet. Right, that was fairly straightforward. Now the other…um…“We may speak now….um…mais…Oh! But…softly? And in French. He will not…understand standard!”  
Giving a nod of comprehension, Beverly assisted the conscience in gently helping Jean-Luc from the bed. They led him on unsteady legs to a small niche in the wall where Jean-Luc managed to urinate. On the way back to the bed Jean-Luc looked at his brother with a confused frown. He then turned his gaze on Beverly. His softly spoken words almost brought her to an abrupt halt.  
“Il est moi, mais qui êtes-vous?”  
She gathered her shattered wits and smiled as she helped ease him back onto the bed. But her mind was racing. “He is me, but who are you?” “How can he know his brother is his identical twin if he’s still in a child-like state and doesn’t know who I am?”  
The conscience was thinking much the same thing. He left the bed and went to the small group of healers, unobtrusively ensconced in a small nook across the room. When he returned he offered his screen to Beverly. As she read she nodded her understanding.  
“Although we have taken him back to his childhood, his most recent memories, especially those of significant impact cannot be suppressed. However, although he accepts his twin’s existence, it is nothing more than that. There is no thought behind his words, no emotional content. If there were, he would, no doubt, have recognised you as his one.”  
Beverly was about to redirect her attention back to her husband when the conscience said quietly,  
“Il ya plus.”  
“There’s more?” thought Beverly. Her eyes went back to the screen.  
“His perceptions will accelerate now. He will experience leaps forward, but there will be some areas where he will seem to linger. These hiatuses will be his unwillingness to leave memories that are pleasant. Conversely, he will quickly travel through the more unpleasant aspects of his memory, most likely as he sleeps. That does not mean, however, that the impact of those particular memories can be discounted. Indeed, they will have to be addressed, but he will have all the mechanisms he has always had to deal with them. All that will be required is to remind him of those abilities. We envisage little or no psychological detriment, perhaps just short term distress.”  
“Dammit!” Thought Beverly angrily. “Poor Jean-Luc, will you ever cease to be at the mercy of your memories?!”  
To the conscience she nodded and summoned a smile. Forming what she hoped were the correct words, she said quietly, “En bien nous y voilà. Espérons que le voyage n′est pas trop dur pour lui.”  
She waited, thinking, “If I got that right, he should’ve heard…Well here we go. Let’s hope the journey isn’t too hard on him.”  
When the conscience gave a measured nod and a small smile, Beverly felt confident she’d managed to get it right.  
Over the next few hours much of what the healer had told them occurred. At times, Jean-Luc would be euphoric, merely lying still, his expression beatific, but at other times, he would roll onto his side and whimper in his sleep. It was obviously going to be a protracted process and Beverly barely noticed when the twin left. In fact it wasn’t until she required his assistance with a translation of something Jean-Luc was saying that she actually realised he was gone. As a healer offered her a small screen, she briefly wondered where he’d gone…and why?

 

Will had finally acceded to tiredness. His hope of his eyes turning into phasers, surprisingly, given how hard he’d wished it to be so, hadn’t happened and, after hours of staring with fruitless anger at the indistinct image on the screen, he rose stiffly and to a very relieved bridge crew growled, “I’ve had enough. You have the bridge, Mr. Powers.”  
The young woman nodded, saying crisply, “Aye, Commander.”  
It wasn’t until Will had actually left the bridge that there was a collective sigh and a lessening of rigid postures. Powers took her seat in the command chair and gave the planet a cursory glare before saying softly, “Cancel forward viewscreen.”  
The tension eased even further without the constant reminder of their predicament. The staff settled into their duties with the expected efficiency, but in a more convivial atmosphere.  
His quarters were in total darkness when he entered, it wasn’t until he went into his bedroom that he saw the very soft glow of the nightlight emanating from the nursery. Having checked on Charlotte and finding her sound asleep, Will wandered back into the main living area to find the babysitter. In the end he was forced to softly order light but only at five percent.  
His smile was a rueful one when he discovered the sitter utterly out to it, still sat at the dining table, his head folded on his arms which rested on the tabletop. Spread all around his head, like a technological halo was a plethora of PADDs. Not wishing to wake the young man just yet, Will gently picked up one of the devices and read, a small snort escaping his nose. Very softly he said with amusement,  
“So, Adam, you’re studying for your Lieutenant’s grade eh?” His smile grew. “Well I guess it pays to study, but don’t forget crew evaluations, my man. All the study in the galaxy won’t help if you can’t function as a member of a team and lead.”  
His large hand closed gently on the lieutenant junior grade’s shoulder and the young man’s head snapped up so quickly he let out a yelp of pain, his hand going to his neck as his face screwed into a grimace.  
At the sound of his commander’s voice, the man attempted to scramble to his feet, but Will gently eased him back to his seat. “Let that be a lesson to you, Lieutenant. If you want to sleep, find somewhere to stretch out. Believe me, I’ve learned from experience.”  
The lieutenant went to nod, but that only exacerbated the neck pain. Will shook his head and said quietly, “Gather your things and go back to your quarters, Adam…but if I were you, I’d swing by sick bay first.”  
Offering a smile, the blushing young man said softly, “Thank you, sir, I’ll do just that.”  
Will escorted him to the door and smiled again at the gentle, “Goodnight, Commander.”  
“Goodnight, Adam. Thank you.”  
Picking up the separate PADD from the low table, Will went back to the nursery, gently tapping the device against his thigh as he debated whether or not to take Charlotte from her cot and put her in his bed. In the end he decided against it. She was so sound asleep and once he’d checked the PADD and found she’d only been fed and changed an hour previously, he simply found he couldn’t, in all good conscience, disturb her, especially just to make him feel better.  
So, back in his bedroom he undressed slowly, debating the merits of taking a shower he knew he needed, but eventually settling for just brushing his furry teeth. He sighed as he slipped into bed, intending to use some time to devote more thought to their current situation. His reasoning was that without the image of the accursed planet to vex him, he might be able to see the problems more dispassionately, but his mind and body betrayed him, sending him into sleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.  
The soft chime of the computer on his desk in the living area took some time to penetrate deep into Will’s perception. At first he incorporated the sound into his dream, but in the back of his mind he knew that wasn’t right. His ingrained training kicked in and his eyes snapped open.  
He was sliding out of bed before he even consciously registered the action. Nude, he went unerringly to his desk, only remembering to ask for some light as an afterthought. Sitting at his desk, he was preparing to take a call from command, but the screen was dark. Momentarily confused, he was about to call the bridge, when his eyes narrowed and his mind shifted gears.  
“I’m here.” He said experimentally.  
When the text began to appear his eyes widened.  
“We wish to discuss matters of some importance.”  
“And what would they be?”  
“Are you in a position to act in place of your captain?”  
Immediately alarmed, Will almost shouted, “Where is Captain Picard?! I want to speak with him now!”  
“You are not in a position to make any demands, Commander Riker. Are you authorised to act in place of Captain Picard?”  
Regaining control, Will knew he had to play this very carefully. “That depends.”  
“On what?”  
“On why the captain can’t act in his capacity of commander of this vessel.”  
“Would the state of his mental faculties be a factor?”  
Anger and outrage surged through Will, but he kept a tight rein on his emotions. “Yes. But I would need to know how impaired, if at all, he is, why that was so and how it came to be.”  
“At present, all we can say is that he is impaired.”  
“I see. And who has made that judgement?”  
“That is not your concern.”  
Smiling coldly, Will settled down to negotiate. His prowess at the game of poker stood him in good stead at times like this.  
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t just take your word for it. I need to see him myself.”  
“You are not qualified in medical matters.”  
“Perhaps not, but I have no way of knowing if you are either.”  
There was an ominous silence, but Will held his ground.  
“The conscience wishes to interface…to speak with you.”  
As Will sat back, he suddenly realised he was naked. Uttering a quick, “I’ll be right back.” He rushed into his bedroom, dragged on his undershirt and was hopping as he shoved his other leg into his trousers while attempting regain his seat at his desk. Slightly out of breath, he cleared his throat and managed to say calmly, “Okay, I’m back.”  
The dark screen of his monitor suddenly blinked into activation and the image Will saw made him gape, despite his well-honed control. His captain, a man he’d known for over fifteen years was looking back at him with his usual steady, uncompromising gaze, but as the initial shock wore off, the big first officer looked more carefully and it was then he noticed the edge of the thick braid that showed just to one side of the man’s neck. Taking a deep breath, Will said mildly, “You’re his identical twin.”  
The man’s eyes glittered and the skin around his mouth tightened imperceptibly.  
“I am the conscience.”  
“I see. Is that your title or your name?”  
“Neither. I am the conscience. Nothing more, nothing less.”  
Will sat back and folded his arms across his chest. “Where is Captain Picard?”  
“My brother is…indisposed.”  
“And Doctor Crusher?”  
“She too is…occupied.”  
Pursing his lips, Will tilted his head, trying to see other differences in the oh so familiar face, but apart from the braid, he couldn’t see anything. It was very unsettling and he wondered how Beverly had coped. Indeed, he mused as an afterthought. The captain too.  
“So,” Will said mildly. “I was…informed you wish to talk about matters of some importance?”  
“That is so.”  
Shrugging, Will’s eyes gleamed. “You must know that until I can ascertain for myself Captain Picard’s condition, mental or physical, I cannot speak for him or act in his place.”  
The conscience was unfazed. “You are aware of the dilemma?”  
Stroking his beard and his fingertips encountering the unshaved stubble where he had failed to trim, Will shrugged again. “I’m aware of the Prime Directive and how it applies to this situation.” His tone was mild, but his blue eyes were like chips of ice. Similarly the twin’s eyes darkened and glittered.  
“It is not a situation, Commander Riker! In fact what my people do is…aucun de vos oignons!”  
Instead of showing any confusion over the sudden switch in language, Will merely waited until the ship’s universal translator conveniently supplied the translation. As the soft, feminine voice rendered the words into standard, the conscience smiled and shook his head.  
“You must forgive me, commander Riker. I have found since my interactions with my brother and Beverly that my languages are merging. It would seem the more…émotionnels…I become, the more likely I am to blend the words. I apologise.”  
Graciously, Will inclined his head. “No problem. As long as I have access to a translator, it doesn’t matter.” He sighed then and tried to give his best impression of conciliatory patience. He’d seen his captain do it so many times and, although he’d never admit it, he’d practiced in front of a mirror plenty of times to perfect it himself. “Well, if it’s not a situation, what is it then? Tell me if I’m wrong, but aren’t your…people…taking embryos…human male embryos…without the consent or knowledge of either parent to be gestated and born on the planet below then to grow to become…the conscience?”  
“That is essentially correct.”  
“Well…” Will allowed the slightest hint of exasperation into his voice. “Surely you can see why we have a problem with that?”  
“No, I do not. The female chosen is carrying more than one embryo; however she is not even aware of her pregnancy. We take only a male, leaving all others, be it one or more behind. The female never knows. The infant, as you correctly state, is born here and raised in a loving, nurturing family. His needs, emotional, physical and educational are met and he is provided with a life task of immense satisfaction and importance. I do not see why you protest! Il ne fait aucun sens! La conscience est un état d′être!”  
Once the translator had done its job, Will gave a one-shoulder shrug. “It makes perfect sense to us however I do understand that you see your position as a ‘state of being’. But that alters nothing! As long as those taken were conceived on a Federation world, then every member of Starfleet has a sworn duty to protect them.”  
“Cette arrogance! Cet aveurglement!”  
As the female voice silenced, Will smiled grimly. “I may be arrogant and blind, but I know my duty and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and do nothing while your people persist in this…theft of sentient Federation beings.”  
The conscience’s face took on an expression rarely seen in his twin. Cold, ruthless calculation mixed with an obvious flavour of complacent superiority. “And just is it you think you…or any entity of your much-vaunted Federation….or Starfleet…can do about it?”  
Will’s wide grin threw the man slightly. “Absolutely nothing! Oh,” Will chuckled wryly. “I know you could swat us like a pesky glob fly, but we humans have a habit of perseverance. In fact we can be a damned nuisance, the way we persist when we feel we’ve been done an injustice. Are your people willing to start killing? ‘Cause that’s probably what it’s going to come down to. War. Nasty word that one…in fact, I believe I know it in French. La guerre.”  
“You are being…irrationnelle.”  
“Yeah, I know, but that’s what we humans are like. Did you think we were all like your brother?” Will shook his head, his smile now gelid. “Nope. There are those like me who would rather fight first and sort things out later, where your brother would always seek to find a diplomatic solution. Well, there you go! C′est la vie!”  
The two men regarded each other coldly, but Will’s heart sank when the conscience said with a condescending smile. “You are…bluffing.”  
“Fuck!” Will thought furiously. Outwardly he remained calm. “Am I?” he tilted his head and shrugged. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. Thing is, are you willing to call?”  
The twin’s eyes narrowed. “Pardon moi? Call?”  
With a dismissive wave of his hand and a shake of his head, Will swept the comment aside. Straightening up, he speared the conscience with a steely look. “This is all nothing but posturing. I’m not going to budge one way or the other until I set eyes on Captain Picard.”  
Alarm surged through Will as the man on the screen said softly, “Very well. Ainsi soit-il.”  
Will never heard the translation, he knew by the tone of voice what had been said. There was no transition, nothing discernible. One second he was in his quarters, the next he was in a softly lit, plain room. His mind was just furnishing…‘so be it’ and he was trying to process what had happened and how he was going to summon someone to mind his daughter when a door opened and an extraordinary being entered. Squinting his eyes against the light emanating from the alien, he allowed himself to be led out of the room, down a set of corridors and into a much larger room, one entire wall clear and showing a dark frozen wasteland. A man stood ramrod straight, hands behind his back, staring out at this bleak vista. His thick grey braid hung down past his waist. The first officer knew who it was and tried to keep his anger at bay.  
“That was a little abrupt, wasn’t it?”  
“We find it adequate.”  
“I have to speak to my ship. I have an infant child who cannot be left alone.”  
“That is being taken care of.”  
“How?” Will was clearly angry and wary.  
“The second you left your ship, your…âges…your…alert? would have sounded. I am certain your heirachy would have sent someone to care for your child.”  
The conscience turned his head, his eyes trailing slowly up and down Will’s form. His eyebrows rose at Will’s attire and bare feet. Will was slightly shivering. By way of explanation, a somewhat embarrassed Will offered, “I was asleep when you called.”  
Casting aside his discomfit with a concerted effort, Will said quietly, “All right, I’m here. Where are Captain Picard and Doctor Crusher?”  
“You are persistent, are you not?” The man’s smile had lost its predatory set and he looked much more like his brother, which helped Will come to terms with his situation.  
“I can’t contact my ship, can I?”  
It was a rhetorical question and the conscience didn’t bother to respond. Instead he gestured to the clear wall. “Come, Commander Riker. Look outside. I believe you grew to manhood in a cold environment.”  
Standing at the conscience’s shoulder, Will couldn’t help but shake his head in grudging respect. “You are like your bother, sir. You have the advantage, but civility seems to be inherent.”  
“I see no reason to be…overly belligérent.”  
“Belligerent?” Snorted Will. “Now that’s something your twin doesn’t do easily. In fact he has to be mightily provoked before he becomes belligerent.”  
“Yes, I imagine he would.” The conscience bowed his head, seemingly in deep thought and, as Will watched in astonishment; the twin rubbed his fingers over his lower lip. Rather than be caught staring, Will dragged his eyes to the icy outside. He startled slightly as the familiar, smooth baritone broke the silence.  
“I must apologise, Commander, for my less than diplomatic behaviour. I was attempting to…goad? you. It seems I failed.”  
Keeping his gaze trained outward, Will said softly, “Just tell me what the captain has said about the…dilemma?”  
That made the conscience snort and shake his head, his braid swinging slowly. “He is just as conflicted as he has been on discovering what you so quaintly refer to as the situation.”  
“So…” Will asked thoughtfully. “He hasn’t been able to reach some kind of consensus with you or your people?”  
“I am my people, Commander.” The gentle smile robbed the words of any venom. “But yes, you are correct. We have not reached a consensus.”  
“Then why did you approach me? Is Captain Picard injured? Is he ill?”  
“My brother is…impaired, but it is a temporary circumstance. I…” The man showed obvious embarrassment. “I thought perhaps I might…intimider?” He rolled his hand, a frown creasing his brow. His expression cleared as the wanted word came to him. “Intimidate you.” He chuckled softly, still somewhat embarrassed. “Obviously I am unsuited for the task. Perhaps I should have left that kind of thing to my well-trained twin.”  
Will’s smile was rueful. “Oh he can intimidate all right. My God, all it takes is a certain look. You know instantly you’re in deep shit.”  
“Deep shit?”  
“Oh..um…deep um…merde?”  
The conscience chuckled softly but his tone was wistful as he remarked, “There is so much about humans I do not know. I have never seen an intimidating look. In fact before I met first Beverly, then my brother, I had never seen another human. I have never even seen the face of my one or any of my people.”  
Will wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but he was saved by the conscience turning and gesturing to the doors. “Would you like to see your…des amis?”  
“My friends?” Grinned Will. “Yes, sir, I would!”  
“Then please…come with me.”

 

Lieutenant Powers had always harboured fantasies of being in charge during a crisis on the Enterprise. The magnificent flagship wasn’t her first posting, but it had been her ultimate goal and she’d worked damned hard to get to where she was now.  
So when the alert sounded, she felt well prepared for action. Already out of the command chair, she looked up expectantly at the ensign at tactical.  
“Commander Riker is no longer on the ship, sir!”  
Crisply and remarkably calmly, Powers said, “Red alert, shields up!”  
She heard the reluctance in the ensign’s voice as she said hesitatingly, “Ah…the computer, the instant it detected the commander’s disappearance, it raised shields and brought weapons online as an automated response, sir. We went to red alert at the same time.”  
Closing her eyes briefly and quelling her embarrassment, Powers went through one scenario after another and came up empty handed. Taking a deep breath, she summoned her training. “All right then…sensors and scanners? Are we under any perceivable threat?”  
“I can’t tell you, sir. We’re as blinkered now as we have been since our arrival.”  
Powers turned to face the opaque forward screen, saying softly, “Activate the forward viewscreen.”  
The image made her lip curl, but when she turned to face the ensign there was a cold smile on her face. “Well at least we know something.”  
Confused, the youngster at tactical asked carefully, “And what’s that, sir?”  
“We’re still here, Ensign and presumably…hopefully…our people are somewhere down there.” She stabbed her finger at the image and watched as the ensign paled. Powers really didn’t have to elaborate but she did anyway. “These aliens possess technology that’s so far in advance of ours they would most certainly have the ability to move us light years away and not only could we do nothing to prevent it, we probably wouldn’t know it’d happened unless we looked out a window!”  
The soft voice from the officer at the con made Powers’ face harden.  
“Well if that’s true, how do we know that planet we can see is really there?”

“Good point. Can we launch a probe?” Asked Powers curiously.  
“Yes, sir.”  
“Then do so Ensign.”  
“Coordinates, sir?”  
“Aim it directly at the planet, Ensign.”  
“Sir?”  
Turning away from the image on the screen, a mildly amused lieutenant said sardonically, “Well if it crashes on the surface, we’ll know that planet’s there, won’t we.”  
The ensign grinned wolfishly. With immense satisfaction in her voice she said, “Probe ready for launch, Lieutenant.”  
“Launch the probe, Ensign.”  
All on the bridge saw the activation of the probe’s propulsion system once it had cleared the underside of the saucer section of the ship, but their anticipation turned to surprise, disappointment and disgust when the probe vanished in a small and unspectacular flash of light, well above the planet’s surface.  
“The probe has been destroyed, sir.” the ensign said unnecessarily.  
“Do we know by what means?” Powers was angry now, feeling the building frustration and helplessness that had so vexed the exec.  
“No, sir.”  
“So it could be a cloaked ship, projecting an image of the planet, which means we’re nowhere near the damn ice-ball…or whatever was used to destroy the probe came from the planet, which of course means we’re still where we think we are! Shit!”  
Plonking down in the command chair, Powers lowered her brow to her hand. The ensign’s soft, “Shall I cancel the forward viewscreen, sir?”  
Caused Powers to sigh.“No. We may as well go along for the ride and assume what we can see is real. It’s not as if we have much choice.”  
There was a brittle silence before the lieutenant said irritably, “But you can cancel the fucking red alert!”  
Surprised glances and raised eyebrows swept the bridge. Not one of the present crew had ever heard Lieutenant Jody Powers utter an expletive of any sort on or off duty. The fact she had, and in her capacity as officer of the watch on the bridge of all places, showed just how serious their situation was. It was a very tense and subdued atmosphere that permeated the bridge now. Dread as well a fear and uncertainty uppermost.

 

Having got some much-needed sleep while Jean-Luc too had slept, Beverly was hitched on his bedside when the doors silently parted and the conscience entered. Beverly didn’t bother to acknowledge his presence, but when she heard the very familiar, “Hey, Beverly.” Her head snapped around and a delighted smile almost split her face in two.  
“Will!” She exclaimed, leaving the bed to rush to her friend and enfold him in a warm embrace. She kissed his cheek, then grabbed his hands, stepping back and grinning, but then her grin faded a little as she took in his odd attire and bare feet. When she spoke his name again it was asking an obvious question.  
“Will?”  
His reddened and briefly bowed his head, but when their eyes met again, he was grinning ruefully. “I was sound asleep.”  
“Ah!” Beverly said with a twinkle in her eyes. “That explains it.”  
Sobering, Will asked softly, whilst looking past Beverly to the sleeping Jean-Luc. “The captain?”  
Turning her head, Beverly replied, “He’s doing okay.”  
“What happened?”  
Beverly’s sigh carried so much emotion Will regretted his question immediately. Her answer made his stomach sour.  
“The Borg, Will. That’s what happened.”  
“The Borg?” Said and angry and incredulous Will. “Are you telling me these aliens are somehow connected to those bastards?”  
Shaking her head and placing a placating hand on Will’s shoulder, Beverly led him to Jean-Luc’s bed. “No, these people have nothing whatsoever to do with the Borg. In fact they’ve helped a great deal. Using their medical technology they discovered that Jean-Luc was infested with Borg nanites.”  
“But we know that, Beverly. You said they were of no consequence.”  
“That’s true, but that’s only the nanites I knew about.”  
“I don’t get it? There’re more?”  
Beverly’s barked, “Ha!” unnerved Will. She saw his fear and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “His infestation was at the sub atomic level, Will. The number of these…look the term micro nanites doesn’t even come close to describing them, that were in his body was so huge, I don’t even know if it’s calculable. Not by us, anyway.”  
Will looked down at the sleeping man and shook his head, trying to understand. “But you said the aliens helped.”  
“Uh huh. They’ve removed them, Will, all of them. He’s free.”  
“So…” Will offered a tentative smile. “He’s…recovering?”  
“Yes.” The relief in that one word almost made Will weep. But what Beverly said next made him want to shout with joy.  
“The infestation was the reason we couldn’t successfully conceive, Will. The nanites were self-replicating and were just as prevalent in his reproductive system as everywhere else in his body. His very sperm were infected and once conception occurred, they couldn’t adapt to either my genetic input or the newly developing zygote. Unable to adapt, they self-terminated, thereby killing the zygote in the process. Apparently it was the Borg’s intention if they failed with Jean-Luc as Locutus in their efforts to assimilate Earth and the Federation, then they were willing to bide their time and use any of his progeny and I’m talking waiting years, maybe even centuries before trying again later and given that they assumed his progeny would carry the nanites just as he once did then it would be a simple task to activate them. Assimilation of any individual thus infected would take mere minutes. And Will, it’s not just Jean-Luc who’s in this terrible situation. Any individual we’ve been able to rehabilitate after assimilation will carry this kind of infestation and the inherent fertility problems. Men and women.”  
A confused Will shook his head. “But why didn’t the Borg program the nanites so that they could adapt? It seems such an obvious necessity given their intentions.”  
“Short answer?” Beverly shrugged. “I don’t know, and neither do these people, not for certain, but we do have a pretty sound theory. This species has had encounters with the Borg a very long time ago, Will, maybe as far back as prehistoric earth or more. At that time, the Borg did what they usually do; used brute force to achieve assimilation, but this species easily defended themselves. Now you know the Borg, no way were they going to give up. So they withdrew for a few months, taking time to produce the necessary amount of micro nanites, then came en masse again. But this time, instead of an out-and-out attack, they sat back and released into a subspace carrier wave a cloud of nanites, the intention being to infect the entire population.”  
“So what happened?” Asked a now intrigued Will.  
“The cloud was intercepted and destroyed. It never even got close. The Borg withdrew again and never returned, but knowing what we know about them now, it’s highly unlikely they’d have forgotten or given up on their wish to assimilate this species. I mean the very fact that this peoples’ technology way back then was superior enough to thwart the Borg would’ve made them all the more desirable to the collective.”  
“Okay, but that brings us back to the error in programming the nanites.”  
“Right.” Nodded Beverly. “I’ve spoken to the conscience and to some of the healers and the general feeling is that it was just a simple oversight on the part of the Borg. Because the Borg rarely reproduce sexually…”  
Will held up his hand. “Whoa! Hang on Beverly. The first cube we boarded had infant Borg. I saw them myself.”  
“Yeah,” Beverly said sadly. “Those poor little ones. Will, what you saw on that cube was a rarity. The Borg only ever reproduce sexually to create either a new Queen or to use a new life to harvest organs for Borg deemed for whatever reason to be useful enough to prolong their existence by replacing failing organic organs.”  
“Oh, Jesus, Beverly!” Will said, shocked and sickened.  
“And that’s not all. When I say reproduce sexually, I can’t guarantee that means sexual reproduction as we know it. As we know it at its most basic, sexual reproduction needs the input of two distinct genetic samples. Now that brings us to their obvious mistake. If their method of sexual reproduction is different, they may simply not have known that it was necessary to program the nanites to adapt to not only the second of the two genetic samples…but also to the new entity, the developing zygote! Think about it Will. Jean-Luc’s sperm were infected with millions, maybe billions of self-replicating nanites. One of his sperm successfully penetrates my ovum. Now the nanites immediately encounter a problem. What’s this? We’re not programmed with this blueprint! So just as they’re trying to figure it out, the cell division begins. Oh dear! A much bigger problem! They accelerate their self-replication in typical Borg-style, trying to overpower the growing zygote, but it’s useless. The cell division continues and the nanites are simply outgunned. So, once again, typical Borg behaviour, they self-terminate! End of an obviously faulty program…but unfortunately the end of the zygote as well.”  
“Jesus!” said a disgusted Will. “Well what now? Will he be fertile again?”  
“We think so, yes.”  
“Well that’s something…but what about all the others?”  
Scratching her head and briefly thinking she should ask where she could bathe, Beverly shrugged. “Well, with the Borg no longer a threat and the fact that we now know what to look for…”  
“Yeah, but can we do it?” Will’s tone was growing agitated. “I mean you admitted it wasn’t until these people used their superior medical technology that the damned infestation was found. I can only assume we don’t have the means or the knowledge to do for the others what the aliens have done for the captain.”  
“That’s true,” Beverly agreed mildly, “But I’m hoping they’re going to give me some…pointers…to guide us, but the truth is we’re probably not going to be able to help those who carry the infestation. However, apart from the infertility issue, it won’t have any other effect and although it may sound callous, once all these infected individuals die, the infestations dies with them…it can’t be passed on, not even by exchange of bodily fluids. The nanites simply can’t adapt.”  
“Fucking Borg!” Though said softly, none of the hatred was lost. Will shook his head and redirected his gaze at his captain. “So how long? When will he be fully recovered?”  
Summoning a small smile, Beverly said, “Oh, another day, maybe a bit longer.”  
“And he’s going to be all right…yeah?”  
“Yes. The healers here will have some more work to do here and there but they’ve invited me to assist. He’s in good hands, Will. Don’t worry.”  
They stood by the bed in companionable silence and Beverly suddenly realised she should’ve asked a rather obvious question. “Why are you here, Will?”  
Jerking one thumb over his shoulder at the conscience, who had spent the entire time waiting patiently by the far wall, Will said with a trace of annoyance, “He…invited me. Wanted to see if I would discuss the…Prime Directive problem.”  
Turning to look briefly over her shoulder, Beverly frowned. “Did he now? I find that quite interesting. What did you say?”  
Before Will could answer, Beverly held up her hand. “No, let me guess. You threatened him, didn’t you.”  
“Well,” Will grinned. “I may have rattled my sabre.”  
“God, Will. Rattling a sabre at these people is like waving a feather at a cyclone. What on earth did you hope to achieve?”  
He smiled and shook his head. His shrug was all Will. “Damned if I know. It’s my default position, you know that.”  
Beverly sighed theatrically. “Have you learned nothing from Jean-Luc? How many years have you been his first officer, Will? You can catch far more flies with honey than vinegar!”  
“Aren’t you being just a tad disingenuous, Beverly? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!” His light tone stole any spite from his words. Beverly grinned and tilted her head in acknowledgement. “Okay, you have a point, but this is the big leagues, Will. These people could, if they were so inclined, make us simply cease to exist. The very fact they haven’t, nor have they ever committed such an atrocity, in all their incredibly long history, shows that we’ve been damned lucky to have had anything at all to do with them.”  
“You sound like some kind of convert.” Will’s tone had taken on a definite derisive edge. Beverly sighed and rubbed her brow. “Look…this whole Prime Directive thing…it’s a bitch, no argument there, but what’s the answer, Will? Yes, as far as the Directive goes it seems, at first glance, to be cut-and-dried, but it’s not! It’s too simplistic to make a unilateral judgement here. And before you even suggest it, no, I don’t condone what’s happening now and has been happening for God knows how long, but Will…we have to recognise these people have a right to protect their way of life…and their species.”  
His eyes glittering with suppressed tension, Will said tightly, “So what is the answer?”  
Throwing up her hands, Beverly hissed, “I don’t know!”  
Both humans registered the conscience’s presence at the same time. Will scowled, but Beverly summoned a smile.  
“I would appear,” he said softly, “That the dilemma continues. It had been my hope that between us we could find a way of accepting that which cannot be changed. It has become more than a dilemma. It is now a paradox.” He turned to Beverly, his expression unreadable. “Have you told him?”  
“About your people? No, not yet.”  
“Then perhaps now might be an opportune time.”  
He moved away again as Beverly gave Will the information about the impending transcendence of the aliens. She finished with…  
“So you see, although it’s not known exactly when this emergent entity will occur, it will occur and when it does, there’ll be no more need of a conscience.”  
Letting out a frustrated breath, Will ran his hand through his untidy hair. “So what do we do in the meantime? Okay, these people are going to become something really extraordinary, well done! But until then?”  
Beverly shrugged, pulling her mouth to one side. “The…tenure…for want of a better term of a human conscience is about one hundred years. This conscience…” she inclined her head in the twin’s direction, “Has about another twenty years to go before another embryo is…sourced. I have asked him when this transcendence is likely to occur and all he can say is soon. But…he did tell me that the word soon is kinda relative to these people. Will, this species is so ancient it makes humankind look like infants by comparison. Soon could mean anything, but I can’t help but get the impression, and I’m basing this on what I’ve seen from a medical standpoint, I don’t think it’s too far off. We might be looking at as little as 50 to 100 years.”  
“One more conscience.” Will said thoughtfully.  
“Uh huh. Now I’ve been giving this some thought. You’re not going to like it, hell I don’t either, but just hear me out…okay?”  
Will nodded silently, his eyes sharp.  
“Right.” Beverly took a deep breath. “Since the Dominion War, followed far too quickly by the Borg incursion, the Federation has been decimated. We have millions, if not billions of refugees and displaced people. At best what we’ve been left with is organized chaos. Worlds that have long been content to be Federation members are now reassessing their positions. And on the horizon, like some kind of circling vulture is the Typhon Pact.”  
“Your point?” said an impatient Will.  
“My point, Will, is that there are a lot of orphans, human orphans, infants with nowhere to go and very little by way of a secure future. Now I’m not suggesting for one second that these aliens have carte blanche to choose at their discretion, but surely it isn’t such a bad idea to allow one of these poor little mites the opportunity to make something of their lives?”  
Will’s head was shaking, his expression sour. “I don’t believe this! How can you even suggest we offer a human baby into a life of servitude?!”  
“It isn’t servitude, Will! There is nothing that compels the conscience to stay, other than his sense of duty! Sound familiar?”  
They stood toe-to-toe, the tension palpable. It was Beverly who strove to calm things down. “Will, you don’t know the full story. Just talk to the conscience and when Jean-Luc’s recovered, talk to him. Don’t make your mind up until you’re in possession of all the facts.”  
That made Will’s eyebrows rise. “The captain knows about your…solution?” His tone easily showed his disbelief.  
“No.” Admitted an embarrassed Beverly. “No he doesn’t, but he’s been struggling with this, Will. It’s tearing at him. He may see the value in what I suggest.”  
“And he may not.” Will sighed and rubbed his face with his hands, noting with disgust both his greasy skin and his body odour. “I need a damn shower.” He grumbled.  
“You and me both.” Beverly’s tone was dry. He looked up and couldn’t hide his smile. He shook his head and said ruefully, “Damn you, Beverly.”  
“Yeah, I know.” She squeezed his hand and, after bending to place a tender kiss on Jean-Luc’s stubbled cheek, she said softly, “I’ll go and ask the twin where we can get cleaned up.”  
Nodding, Will tilted his head and studied the captain, his eyes travelling over the older man’s naked body. “Jesus, Captain. When you get yourself into a fix, you sure make a bang-up job of it!” He said softly.  
Beverly came back quickly and took his hand. “Come on, you smelly man, I know where we can have a hot water shower.”  
That surprised Will and he said so. “Really? They have hot water showers?”  
“Well…not exactly showers…”  
“Beverly…” The note of warning only delighted the doctor.  
She chuckled and tossed off a wink. “Oh come on, Will…where’s your sense of adventure?”  
Shaking his head, Will let Beverly lead him from the room, both of them following the conscience.

 

Sitting back in the room where she’d chatted with Jean-Luc’s brother, Beverly was enjoying the feeling of being clean. Her clothing, everything down to her regulation boots had been replaced, although she only knew that because she’d been told. The uniform, with rank pips and communicator were indistinguishable from the original. The conscience’s one was sitting beside Beverly as the man stood impassively at the clear wall.  
When Will entered the room, Beverly could see by his expression he’d been as intrigued with the shower as she’d been. At the female’s gentle gesture, Will sat beside Beverly and said sotto voce, “I don’t care what you call it…that was not water!”  
Snorting softly, Beverly replied just as softly, “You feel clean, don’t you?”  
“Yeah.” He said grudgingly.  
With an impish gleam in her eyes, Beverly added, “And now you’re in a proper uniform…I’d even bet you’ve got undies on.” She glanced down at his feet and wasn’t quite able to stifle a giggle. “And socks and boots. And Will…you don’t smell any more.”  
“Shut up, Beverly.” He grouched. Then, with a gleam of his own he said, “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little distortion of the truth.”  
That made Beverly light-hearted expression fall. Taking a deep breath she said, “About that, Will…”  
He placed his hand on her thigh and shook his head.  
“I didn’t mention it to upset you or to gain any advantage, Beverly. I understand why you did it and I’m over it.” he grinned slyly. “Mostly.”  
Giving him a measured look, Beverly nodded. “Okay, but I still owe you an apology, Will.”  
“Fair enough, but when you’re ready.”  
“Agreed.”  
The conscience, always seeming to know when it was appropriate to join a conversation, left the clear wall and took a seat opposite. His quietly spoken “Four drac, hot.” Made Beverly cover her mouth to prevent the giggle that threatened to escape when she saw Will’s expression on hearing the order. When four mugs of dark, steaming liquid silently appeared, Will could do nothing but shake his head.  
He picked up his mug and looked at it suspiciously before taking an experimental sip. Beverly watched keenly and grinned as Will’s eyebrows rose.  
Pulling down the corners of his mouth, he nodded. “Not bad, not bad at all.”  
“Captain Picard’s brother seems as addicted to this…” Beverly lifted her mug, “As the captain is to Earl Grey.”  
Again, Will shook his head. “Well, I’ll be damned.”  
They drank slowly, indulging in sporadic conversation, but once they’d finished their drinks, the conscience surprised the officers by requesting his one take Will to see their children. Apparently their recovery was going so well they had been brought back to their living quarters and were enjoying reintegrating themselves into their usual routines.  
Will agreed to go, but Beverly knew it was with some well disguised reluctance.  
Once alone, the conscience sighed and made a show of inspecting his well trimmed and immaculately clean fingernails. “He is…different.”  
Smiling with affection, Beverly nodded her agreement. “Indeed he is. He’s been Jean-Luc’s trusted right hand for, oh…fifteen years now.”  
Drawing his intense gaze up to meet Beverly’s eyes made her stomach turn over. “What drives a man like that? What is it in him that makes him so dévouét et loyal à mon frère?”  
“Devotion and loyalty are things that develop with time, but it says more about the nature and characters of both men than the emotions themselves.”  
“How so?”  
“Well…Will has to have it in himself to possess that capability to give loyalty and devotion and likewise, Jean-Luc has to have the capacity to not only accept it without misuse, but engender it in the first place. These emotions, like love, are extraordinarily powerful and not easily given, most often, like respect, they have to be earned and always received very seriously. Jean-Luc would never treat the devotion and loyalty of any member of his crew lightly. The very knowledge that any of his crew, from the lowliest ensign right up to Will, the First Officer and second in command, would willingly give their lives for him has always been accepted by him as an honour and a privilege and in return, he does his utmost to see that he protects his ship and therefore every person on board. It’s a two-way street. Mutual trust, loyalty and devotion. Give-and-take.”  
“Donner et recevoir.” The man murmured thoughtfully. “Mais…they are so different in their…caractère.”  
“Yes,” Agreed Beverly. “Their characters are very different but that doesn’t mean one is better at his job than the other. They simply have different styles. Both are just as effective, although I suppose it’s fair to point out that Jean-Luc is by far, more experienced.”  
“He troubled me at first.”  
“Who, Will?”  
“Oui. Interacting with him was so different from what I had experienced with you and Jean-Luc.” The man smiled with amused wonder. “He threatened me with la guerre.”  
Beverly gaped momentarily, then laughed out loud, bemusing the conscience. Getting control of herself, Beverly wiped at the tears in her eyes.  
“Will threatened you with war? Oh God, what did he think we were going to use? Bows and arrows?”  
To the twin’s questioning look, Beverly shrugged. “I don’t know the French words for that. Um…a bow was a long…originally it was made of wood…and it had a string…and the arrows were…” Giving up, Beverly pantomimed drawing a bow and releasing an invisible arrow. Now completely nonplussed, the conscience simply shrugged and it was such a Gallic gesture all amusement in Beverly fled.  
“Look, it was just a simple, very primitive weapon. The point I was trying to make was that as you well know, we don’t possess any weapons that could possibly do your world or your people the slightest harm.”  
The following silence was uncomfortable, but something that had been niggling in Beverly’s mind had to come out. In typical Beverly fashion, she was quite forthright.  
“When we first went to see Jean-Luc, after he’d been taken to the room he’s in now….something happened between you two, didn’t it.”  
She could tell by his tight expression and darkened eyes he was not pleased. “C′est privé. Je préfère ne pas en parler.”  
“Maybe so, but feeling it’s private and not wanting to talk about it doesn’t change anything. I’m Jean-Luc wife and his doctor. Either way I have a right to know what’s happening to him.” It was said quietly, but with underlying steel.  
The man turned to stare fixedly through the clear wall and at first Beverly thought he’d simply chosen to ignore her, but his soft baritone sent a chill up her spine as he said, “Il y avait une sorte de…connexion.”  
“What kind of connection?”  
He tapped his temple and sighed. “I do not know. Inside my mind I heard, felt…I even…goûte?”  
Shaking her head, Beverly shrugged. “I don’t know that one.”  
Frowning, the twin poked out his tongue wiped it in and out across his upper lip. Beverly snapped her fingers, then pointed. “Tasted!”  
“Oui! Tasted. And I heard…maman?”  
“Mom…mother.” Supplied Beverly.  
“Yes…that makes sense. She was doing something. Warm, sweet liquid was in my brother’s mouth and filling his stomach. He…we felt comfort and contentment…la paix.”  
“Peace.” Sighed Beverly.  
“She…our maman, she was saying…”  
Beverly finished the sentence for him, “Mon cher fils peu. My dear little son.”  
“How can this be, Beverly? I do not understand.”  
“Although there’s been centuries of studies of twins, in fact children of all sorts of multiple births, it is between identical twins that a known, but little understood phenomena occurs. It can manifest itself in many ways, but the most commonly reported phenomenon is the almost telepathic link between the twins.”  
The conscience lifted his head and one hand, about to state the obvious. Beverly beat him to it. “Yes, I know neither of you was aware of the existence of the other and you have been separated by God knows how many light years, but even so, there’s been too many examples of identical twins, separated at birth who have been, on some kind of subliminal level, aware of each other. I can only surmise that because you were removed as an embryo, this latent ability didn’t show itself until you were brought together, and then only when Jean-Luc’s brain was altered so that all his natural barriers and defenses were removed.”  
The twin rose from the seat and went back to the clear wall. “Pourquoi at-il d′être si difficile?”  
Beverly had to think about that for a moment or two, but once she’d deciphered it, she sighed.  
“I don’t know why it has to be so difficult. It’s tragic that you see it that way. Surely finding a brother…an identical twin, with whom you have an obvious bond, should be cause for happiness? I mean, I’m not suggestion a celebration, but this is a significant event! For both of you!”  
“Peut-être.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “Mais je ne suis si sûr.”  
“Well, not being sure is no crime. Jean-Luc, although insatiably curious, is still naturally cautious.”  
Into the ensuing silence, Beverly remarked quietly, “Do you realise you’re using French more and more?”  
He turned, one eyebrow raised. “I had not given that any thought.” He tilted his head and offered a small smile. “I suppose I am.”  
“And why do you think that is?”  
He shrugged, but Beverly could see he was thinking about it. Eventually he smiled. “I think learning about the history of the Picards triggered something within me. Perhaps I am paying…hommage.” He quipped with an impish grin.  
His use of the French word for homage made Beverly chuckle and shake her head. “Well, if nothing else, you’re doing me a power of good. Jean-Luc is going to be delighted at the improvement in my…La française.”  
“En effet.”  
They were both sharing a gentle laugh when Will and the female returned. Always gregarious, Will, having been so subdued since Deanna’s death had seemed to be invigorated by meeting his captain’s nephews and niece. He strode into the room, his blue eyes twinkling. Walking right up to the conscience, he said, “Great kids!”  
The twin smiled, but Beverly saw his confusion.  
“Kids. A colloquialism for children.”  
He accepted that but the confusion remained. Sighing, Beverly said, “Yes, kids is also a collective term for the young of an animal called a goat.”  
“Then why…?”  
Threading her arm through his and ignoring his mildly shocked expression, Beverly smiled innocently and said,  
“Sometimes you just have to go with the flow. Now what’s say we go back to see Jean-Luc?”  
Now even more confused, the conscience sent his one a helpless look and allowed Beverly to lead him from the room. Will proffered his arm and was pleased when the female mirrored her one’s actions and permitted Will to do the escorting. The fact that he had no idea where to go was irrelevant. He was simply following Beverly and the twin.  
Having spent several long hours with Jean-Luc, an exhausted trio went back to the living area. Both Beverly and Will were upset by their time spent with the man, his ever-increasing progression through his life was interesting in its own way, but as he was still only speaking in French and not acknowledging anyone, they found it very trying to be with him. Beverly especially, during the lengthy periods while Jean-Luc slept, found the inability to comfort him in his distress very difficult to endure. Her only solace came from the conscience, who; by placing one hand on his brother’s cheek could, more often than not, calm him.  
It was Will who said quietly as they waited while the conscience went to summon his one, leaving the two officers alone, “So…they’ve got some kind of mental connection?”  
Beverly nodded, a weary sigh escaping. “Yes.”  
“A twin thing?” Will asked, speculatively.  
“I think so. I’m not aware Jean-Luc’s brother has undergone any sort of mental enhancement and so far I’ve not seen any evidence of telepathy in the aliens, so I can only assume what’s happening is the twin thing.”  
Will sat, leaning back and stretching his long legs out. “It’s weird you know, Beverly…to think of the captain with an identical twin.” He rubbed his face and didn’t see Beverly’s sad expression. He carried on, ignorant of what his words were doing to her. “Have you noticed they share some of the same gestures? When I first met the twin, we were standing at the window and he did that thing…you know, that rubbing the lip thing the captain does when he’s thinking and I…”  
Beverly’s softly spoken, “Shut up, Will.” Made his head snap around, his eyes narrowing, but as soon as he saw Beverly’s expression he immediately regretted his mistake.  
“Oh, hell, Beverly. I’m sorry. What an idiot!”  
Taking a seat beside the big man, she summoned a wan smile and shook her head. “Don’t apologise, Will, it’s okay. I can’t say I’m getting used to seeing it but I am adjusting to the fact that the conscience isn’t Jean-Luc.”  
Will could see by her slightly tight expression and the colour that had risen that there was more. “Have you…forgotten?” He asked diplomatically.  
Her smile was lopsided, but he could see both pain and embarrassment. She nodded slowly. “ Yes.” And then added “…a couple of times.”  
When she said nothing more, Will moved a little closer and took her hand, tilting his head to see past the curtain of her hair as she’d bowed her head. “Want to talk about it?” he offered softly.  
Lifting her head and leaning back to stare up at the ceiling, Beverly snorted and tried to smile, but the suspicious moisture in her eyes told its own story.  
“It’s so damned stupid! Why should I feel like I’ve been unfaithful to Jean-Luc? I’ve done nothing wrong….”  
“What did you do?”  
“Oh…the first time I came down here…” She turned and gave Will an apologetic look, gaining a nod of understanding at the tacit reference to her lying, “It was after I’d examined his children. They were so sensitive to sound that even the noise of my tricorder was enough to cause them agony and they begged their father for help…for him to make it stop. It was gut-wrenching, Will and afterwards, outside the room, he broke down.” She sighed and wiped at her eyes. “And in that moment I forgot he wasn’t Jean-Luc. I didn’t see his braid, I didn’t see the conscience…all I saw was Jean-Luc and I…”  
“You comforted him.” Will’s voice carried no hint of accusation.  
“Yes.” Beverly whispered. “I wiped his tears from his face and I…kissed him.”  
“What did he do?”  
Making a curt sweeping gesture with her hand, Beverly’s voice was filled with self-recrimination. “He was shocked, Will! Jesus…I’d overstepped the mark so badly. Not only had I taken a physical liberty with a world leader, I’d made the fundamental error of involving myself personally in a medical matter!”  
Squeezing her hand gently; Will drew Beverly’s gaze to his. The calm, resolute, non-judgemental expression in his eyes only made Beverly feel worse. “Don’t Will.”  
“Why not? he asked quietly. “You did nothing wrong, Beverly, in fact I think the captain would’ve approved.”  
“But…”  
He held up his free hand and shook his head, a smile making his eyes twinkle. “Nope, that won’t cut it, Beverly. No matter how hard you try to beat yourself up over this, the fact remains you did nothing wrong. Unless, of course you think compassion is wrong?”  
Her expression hardened, despite her bitter tears. “There’s more, Will.”  
“So, tell me.”  
Taking a shuddering breath, Beverly said shakily, “When he and I were watching Jean-Luc…when the treatment had begun, it was…” She closed her eyes and grimaced, pulling her hand from Will’s and lifting them to rub her face. When she could, she continued in a soft voice that, although quiet, still carried her horror. “He screamed in agony, Will. Jean-Luc stood naked, blind and helpless while he screamed in unspeakable agony and we could do nothing! We couldn’t even see him!”  
Just as Jean-Luc’s brother had done, Will moved to take the distraught woman in his arms. She resisted though, struggling free and climbing quickly to her feet. Stalking to the clear wall she glared out unseeing, savagely scrubbing at her tears. Sighing, Will went to stand with her, close but not touching. He didn’t need to ask her to continue, she needed to tell him.  
“When Jean-Luc finally lost consciousness, which was mercifully quickly, I turned to him, Will, I used him, his familiarity, God…even his same scent…for as long as he held me in his arms, in my mind I was with Jean-Luc, not his twin.”  
She sighed and lowered her head. “What does that make me?”  
“You’re being way too hard on yourself, Beverly.” Will dragged his eyes from the bleak scene outside to one just as bleak inside. “With what you were experiencing I think it’s only natural you sought comfort in the arms of a man who is, to all intents and purposes, identical, at least physically, to your husband.” He risked placing a gentle hand on Beverly’s shoulder. “That doesn’t make you anything but human, Beverly. Vulnerable, compassionate and open to feeling horror when someone you love is in pain. You needed comfort and you turned to the only person who could provide it.”  
Beverly shuddered through a deep sigh and turned to Will, but whatever she was going to say was lost as the conscience and his one entered, followed by their children.  
The teenagers hurried to Beverly who scrambled to recover herself. Plastering a smile on her face, she hoped the tracks of her tears dried quickly. If the youngsters saw the evidence of her distress, they ignored it, instead gathering around her, all talking, albeit softly, at once.  
Her mood quickly lifting, Beverly kept her voice down as she said with a smile, “Hey! One at a time.” The conscience and his one moved to the group, the man placing his hand on his daughter’s head. His baritone was smooth and velvety in its gentleness and Beverly again almost winced at its familiarity.  
“Now my little ones, you must allow Beverly to hear you.” He bent slightly and said to the girl, “Jolie, what would you like to say to Beverly?”  
With her Hazel eyes the same as her father’s looking into Beverly’s, the doctor had to swallow to wet her suddenly dry mouth.  
“Thank you, Beverly,” The girl said softly . “Je suis très reconnaissant.” She smiled, then said “You sound…violet.”  
The startled look on Beverly’s face quickly changed to one of wonder. “You hear colours.”  
“Yes.” said Jolie. “My father says we are…spéciaux.”  
“You are indeed!” said a delighted Beverly. “But there’s no need to be grateful, I was happy to help.” The strange, dulcet timbre of her voice caught Beverly unawares. She had not heard the children do anything but howl and sob in agony. To hear this girl’s natural speaking voice intrigued and delighted Beverly. The conscience removed his hand from his daughter and placed it on the boy with the orange eyes.  
“And you, Forte d′orange? What have you to say?”  
Beverly could see the obvious reason for the ‘orange’ but until the lad spoke, she didn’t realise why ‘forte’. His siblings cringed as he almost shouted, “Thank you, Beverly!” Then to Beverly’s concern and amusement, the boy grimaced and put his hands over his ears. The conscience chuckled softly and shook his head, offering his screen to Beverly. To her shaking head he explained, “My one is laughing.” He placed his cheek on his embarrassed son’s head. “Ever since his birth Forte d′orange has had had no probléme étant entendu.”  
Out of the corner of her eye, Beverly saw Will’s frown of incomprehension. Lifting her head she said quietly, “No problem being heard.” Will grinned and nodded, his eyes twinkling with amusement, but she could see his confusion over what Jolie had said. Beverly said quietly, “Synaesthesia. They can hear colour and taste sound.”  
Will gaped, obviously gobsmacked.  
The next teenager to speak was the boy with the lighter coloured hair. He said gravely and solemnly, “Merci beaucoup, Beverly.” Then he smiled. “I like how you taste.” His voice was deeper than his sister’s but not as clear as his brother’s. The conscience looked at his son with obvious affection and said “Robuste.” Beverly’s quick scrutiny supplied the corresponding reason for that particular sobriquet. Although all the children were thin-too thin- as far as Beverly was concerned, this boy was a little sturdier than his siblings. Again the conscience explained, “Even though all the children’s development was monitored and programmed, Robuste managed to be heavier at birth than the others, who all weighed the same.”  
That left the last of the four. As he looked up at Beverly, his father’s softly spoken, “Long nez.” made Beverly smile. She gentle tapped her fingertip on the boy’s slightly prominent nose and said with fondness, “You are like your father, and his brother.”  
The boy’s non-existent eyebrows rose and he smiled, exposing the ridges of hard, pale yellow material that acted as teeth. “Le frère de papa a un gros nez aussi?”  
“Yes,” said Beverly, trying not to grin. “Although I wouldn’t call their noses big.” The boy looked at his father and chuckled. “It is big enough!” he reached up and touched his own nose. “I am just happy my nez is not as gros.” Turning his head to his sister, he said, “Ce n′est pas le violet, c′est le lilas.”  
He turned but his father placed his hand on the boy’s shoulders and turned him back to face the doctor. The man’s voice rumbled as he said quietly, “N′avez-vous pas oublié quelque chose?”  
Beverly only got part of that and the conscience saw her confusion. He smiled, saying softly, “I just reminded him he has forgotten something.”  
Long nez glowed a little brighter and bowed his head. His voice was very soft but clear as he said, “Thank you healer Beverly.”  
“You’re welcome, Long nez, and I like both violet and lilac.”  
Beverly was about to say more when the glow of the conscience’s one made her squint. It was then that Beverly realised the female had come closer. As the red head watched, the female pushed both arms out in front of her and seemed to be offering her hands. To Beverly’s uncertain expression, the conscience explained, “My one is giving you the gift of her hands as a way of offering thanks. Among my people, the hands represent the very fabric of their society, for without them, communication is impossible. By offering you her hands, my one is giving you the power to render her incapable of expression.”  
“What do I do?” said a gratified, but cautious Beverly.  
“Just touch her hands with yours, but doucement, Beverly, doucement.”  
“Gently.” Beverly thought as she stretched her own arms out until she made contact with the female’s hands. Even though she expected it, Beverly was surprised at how cold the female’s hands were. The persistent glow suggested warmth, but the opposite was true. Just as the children began to softly chatter again…except Forte d′orange, who was gently admonished to lower his voice, the conscience said to his children, “We have more than one to greet. Commander Riker is here aussi.”  
Over the soft babble of voices as the children reacquainted themselves with Will, the conscience took Beverly to one side. He took her hands and looked into her eyes, giving her the same intense attention she was so used to seeing from Jean-Luc, effectively mesmerising her. When he slowly leaned in and brushed his lips over hers she gasped and pulled away. Frowning, the twin said, “Is it not appropriate to…écouter?...to…kiss?…by way of offering deep appreciation?”  
Gathering herself and cursing her racing heart, Beverly strove for a neutral expression.  
“As a general rule, kissing on the lips is usually confined to those who are in an intimate relationship.”  
“Oh,” said an obviously embarrassed and confused conscience. “I had researched the archives. My information was that it was acceptable in many different cultures of Earth. Totes mes excuses. Je ne voulais pas vous offenser.”  
Taking a steadying breath, Beverly summoned a smile. “There’s no need to apologise and I’m not offended.” Feeling the time was right to broach what was for her a very uncomfortable subject, Beverly steadied herself and gazed unwaveringly into his eyes, telling herself over and over…he is NOT Jean-Luc!  
“There have been times…situations that’ve arisen since I first met you that I’ve found myself forgetting you aren’t my husband.” She used that specific term rather than Jean-Luc’s name to accentuate the difference between the two men. Unable to hold his gaze any longer, she bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It can be very difficult for me…even commander Riker has commented on it.”  
“On what, exactly?” Asked a worried conscience.  
Using her hands to help shape her words, Beverly said earnestly, “Gestures, physical actions, God…even speech patterns, in either language, despite your lack of an accent!” Bringing herself to a halt to curtail her rising agitation, Beverly lifted her head and said, more calmly, “Look, surely you can see how this…” she flipped her hand between the two of them. …“This sameness between you and Jean-Luc is making things hard for me?”  
His gaze intensified. “Do you think it is any easier for me?”  
Wary and alarmed, Beverly said, “What’s that supposed to mean?”  
The man’s smile was sardonic. “Why do you think I would not find you as compelling….as attractive…as my brother does?”  
“But your one…” Beverly spluttered.  
“Is not human. You are.” He lifted his hand and ran a finger down her face, saying her name with the same soft tenderness that Jean-Luc so often did. “Beverly.”  
She left him immediately, going to Will and saying curtly, “I’m going back to Jean-Luc’s room.”

Without waiting for a response, she stalked out of the room, turning left and marching off, some part of her roiling mind trying to remember which way to go to get to her husband.


End file.
